Elephant's Memory (Don't Think, Just Feel)
by ArmidaLore01
Summary: Statistically, Reid knew that engaging in a physical relationship with anyone, let alone a colleague and a friend, was never a good idea. But with all the outcomes in mind, he never knew it would turn out like this. Morgan/Reid. Rated M because of Chapter 6.
1. 1x01 - Extreme Aggressor - Tired

A/N: Hey everyone! So over the course of the summer, I slipped into my video-editing side and neglected my writing. I apologize for that! But now I am back and I was looking through my stories, rediscovering what I wanted to do with each unfinished story, and I decided to rewrite _Don't Think, Just Feel_. Don't worry! The plot up to now will remain the same; I just wanted to clean up the writing and some plot holes I found in the chapters.

The chapters will be less about what the case is about (unless it's truly important to the plot) and more about Morgan and Reid and the development in their relationship. So, save for the first chapter and really important cases, the chapters _will_ be shorter. Regardless, I am going to try to write as much as I can, seeing as how there is going to be 11 seasons worth to write about! Hope you all enjoy the redone version of _Don't Think, Just Feel_!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Criminal Minds.

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It was 6:52 in the morning, and Reid was tired.

A pair of hazel eyes slid shut almost lazily as a wave of heat traveled past his upper lip, flooding his nostrils with the scent of peppermint. He cautiously took in a sip of the still-scalding drink, sighing as he swallowed. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, fingers coiled around the handle of the black mug. His eyes were still closed, and he struggled to open them, managing to raise his heavy lids halfway before blinking to a halt.

He needed to wake up. He knew that much. It would do him no good to arrive to work in the state he was in. He took another sip of his peppermint tea, scowling in pain as the beverage burned his tongue. He swallowed roughly, raising a hand to his face and digging the heel of his palm into his worn eyes. _Wake up._

The sudden chime of his phone going off in his pocket startled him, the fright going to his heart as it throbbed a bit more prominently in his chest. Quickly getting over his shock, Reid pulled out his ringing mobile out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. He pursed his lips in recognition and answered the call, raising the phone to his ear.

"Reid."

"Hey, kid," Morgan's voice sounded over the line. "I just got off the phone with Hotch. JJ caught a case happening in Seattle. The info should be getting faxed over to you right about now."

As Morgan spoke, Reid glanced over at his fax machine in his living room, which slowly whirred to life and began printing out the case report. Placing the mug on the counter, he trudged toward the fax machine, arriving just as it concluded. He pulled the first document from the tray and began to skim over the details. "Yeah, I got it."

"He wants you to take that over to Gideon."

Reid frowned at Morgan's statement, eyes flicking away from the report. "Gideon? For a consult?"

"No, the director wants him to come in, get out on the field with us. God knows why, but she does."

Reid's frown deepened; there was a certain, unpleasant edge to Morgan's voice now. It was clear to him that Morgan was not at all happy with the circumstances surrounding the case, especially now that it included the personal involvement of Jason Gideon, and it wasn't difficult to understand why. Gideon was not without criticism, especially after what happened in Boston. So it was understandable why Morgan was not so quick as to trust the former Unit Chief so easily. But Reid was not so quick as to not.

"He could be an asset to this case," Reid answered neutrally, though internally he felt defensive toward his mentor. "It's been six months. Maybe he's ready."

Morgan paused before replying. "Hm. Maybe. We'll see. Well, I'll see you both soon."

Before Reid could answer, the click of Morgan hanging up echoed in his ear. Reid pressed the 'end call' button on his device, slipping it back into his pocket. Grabbing the rest of the papers from the tray, he headed back into the kitchen. He rubbed his chest absentmindedly, an unknown weight forming from within. He eyed the large thermos on his drying rack.

It was 6:55 in the morning, and Reid was tired.

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Getting Gideon to accompany them on the case took less effort than Reid was expecting from the senior agent.

He had arrived at the bureau with time to spare before the conclusion of Gideon's lecture. As he maneuvered through the hallways on his way to the lecture hall Gideon was currently occupying, he could hear his superior's muffled voice resonating from behind the closed door.

" _..._ _I can't because I am ashamed of something."_

Reid's entrance into the hall cut off whatever else Gideon had in mind to say. He slowly stepped into the room, aware of the stares he was receiving from the students. He tried not to shift in discomfort as he met Gideon's curious gaze. Tapping the manila folder in his hand, he watched as Gideon correctly interpreted the reason for his arrival. He turned to his class with a muttered "excuse me" and followed Reid out.

As the door closed behind them and they began walking down the hall at an easy pace, Reid began his explanation.

"Hotch sent this over to me," he said, handing the folder over to Gideon. "Unsub in Seattle, Washington. They're calling him the Seattle Strangler. Four victims in four months. He keeps them alive for seven days. The handle serves as a crank."

"Allowing him to control the rate of suffocation," Gideon observed, taking the crime scene photos from Reid.

"To prolong it?"

Gideon shook his head. "To enjoy it. Seattle's hit a wall?"

Reid nodded his head. The pair gradually came to a stop as they arrived at Gideon's office. "Physical evidence is non-existent; there are no tangible leads."

"And another girl is missing," Gideon concluded, grabbing the remaining files from Reid's hand and swiftly entering his office, Reid following closely behind.

Reid had been inside Gideon's office frequently throughout the duration of Gideon's medical leave, and immediately sought out his usual place near the entrance. He knew better than to disrupt Gideon as he carefully examined the contents of the manila folder. The fatigue from earlier that morning was gently prodding at the edge of his mind, asking to be acknowledged. Reid blinked hard and sighed, tapping his foot anxiously.

He only stopped when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway, getting louder as they approached. Two pairs, each at their own pace. He waited.

"I've looked the case file over," Gideon suddenly announced, keeping his eyes trained on the papers in his hands. "I'll get some thoughts to you ASAP."

"You're gonna be with us in Seattle ASAP."

Having anticipated their arrival, Reid was not surprised to see Hotch and Morgan briskly enter the room. Gideon, however, was. The senior agent looked up at the two new arrivals with raised brows, forehead pinched in light bewilderment. Taking off his spectacles, he approached Morgan, who was holding out a photo of a pretty, smiling redhead woman.

"22-year-old Heather Woodland," Morgan said in reference to the woman as Gideon took the photograph.

"Before she left for lunch, she downloaded an email with a time-delayed virus attached," Hotch took over. "The killer's virus wiped her hard drive and left this one the screen." He held out another photograph, which Gideon took to examine.

Morgan had shuffled back to his position behind Hotch, hands clasped in front of him. Then, without warning, he suddenly looked over his shoulder to Reid. Unaware that he had been staring since the moment Morgan entered the room, Reid physically cringed at having been caught, his heart giving an unpleasant jolt as he folded his arms across his chest, vainly fighting the warmth that flooded his cheeks.

Morgan smirked. And then he _winked_.

Unable to think of an appropriate response, Reid averted his eyes, focusing on Gideon and Hotch once more with a dry swallow, his heart racing. His eyelids briefly shut at Morgan's low chuckle.

Gideon compared the current crime scene photo to the one he had framed on the wall, that of the previous case of William Heirens, known as the Lipstick Killer in 1945. They each recited the same message, which Gideon spoke aloud, "For God's sake, catch me before I kill more, I cannot control myself."

"He never keeps them more than seven days," Hotch said. "Which means we have fewer than 36 hours to find her."

"They want you back in the saddle," Morgan said. "You ready?"

"Looks like medical leave's over, boss," Reid put in.

Still skeptical, Gideon turned to Hotch. "You sure they want me?"

Hotch gave the smallest of nods and replied, "The order came from the director."

Gideon paused for a moment, turning to face the old case of the Lipstick Killer once more. Reid held his breath, waiting for his response.

"... Then we better get started."

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Once they were all situated inside the jet and in the air, Hotch spoke. "Alright, so what do we know?"

"His first victim was 26-year-old Melissa Kirsch," Reid said, opening the file that he had long since memorized. "Stab wounds, strangulation-"

"Wait, wait, back up, back up," Morgan cut in, leaning over the seat that Hotch was occupying, dark brows furrowed in disbelief. "He stabbed her, and _then_ strangled her to finish her off?"

"Other way around," Gideon corrected. "Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?"

"Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one would believe," Reid answered, shaking his head. "He tried, probably found that it took too long-"

"So he stabbed her instead," Morgan said, completing Reid's thought.

"And realized it would be hours cleaning up the blood," Hotch added.

"Next time, our boy's got a method: the belt," Morgan concluded.

Gideon nodded, convinced and looking impressed. "He's learning, perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer."

The briefing continued for a few moments more before they deemed themselves prepared, and then they each settled in to sleep for the remainder of the trip. Anxious to get some must-needed rest, Reid closed his file and slipped it neatly into his satchel. The couch in mind, he grabbed his coat and headed toward the back of the jet. He could hear the shuffling of Hotch and Gideon as they situated themselves for a nap as well, and he dropped his satchel at the foot of the couch, lowering himself into a laying position. He kicked his shoes off and brought his feet up, draping his thin coat over himself. He closed his eyes.

It was silent, but before long Reid could hear Gideon's light snores coming from the front of the jet. He shivered slightly at the remnants of cold still striking his feet and torso, and he curled even further in on himself.

"I have a better way of warming you up if you're interested."

Reid jumped violently, a yelp right at the tip of his tongue, but a rough hand clamped down on his mouth and suddenly he was staring into the mischievous, dark eyes of Derek Morgan. Reid scowled and tore his face away from Morgan's hand, taking a deep breath to slow down his heart rate.

"Don't do that," Reid scolded, hating the whiny pitch that tinged his statement. He felt irritation making itself apparent as it creeped into his mind; Morgan startled him, and out of an attempt to sleep away the draining exhaustion he had been feeling for the past week. Who knows how long it would take to get to sleep now, with a rapid pulse and adrenaline pumping through his veins?

Morgan didn't seem to catch on to Reid's annoyance, or if he did he didn't care, for he merely grinned in that infuriating way that made Reid want to either punch him or kiss him. Reid was hardly a physically violent person, or even an overall violent person, but Morgan just might bring that part out in him.

"In case you forgot, which would be impossible since we literally finished a briefing just minutes ago," Reid continued, his voice dropping down to a harsh whisper, "we're on the jet with _two supervisors_ on our way to a _case_."

Morgan rolled his eyes. " _Relax_ , pretty boy. Just messing with you."

It was Reid's turn to roll his eyes, prompting a chuckle from Morgan, chestnut eyes sparkling in mirth.

"But you really do need something better to keep you warm other than that rag of a jacket you have," Morgan added on, pointing to Reid's coat.

Fingering the thin fabric, Reid shrugged. "I'll be alright."

Biting his lip, unconvinced, Morgan sat up from his crouching position. Reid watched as Morgan reached over and grabbed his hoodie from the seat opposite the couch. He tossed it over to the laying Reid, who caught it clumsily. The black hoodie was large, even for a man of Morgan's build, cotton, and so incredibly _warm_.

"Take it," Morgan said, raising his hand to quell any protests Reid may have. "You're all skin and bones, kid. You need it a lot more than I do."

Unsure of what to do with this act of kindness, Reid dropped his eyes to the hoodie. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Muscle mass will keep me nice and cozy," Morgan replied, humor slipping easily into his voice as he smiled at Reid.

Reid, still bewildered by Morgan's actions and shyly avoiding his friend's eyes, smiled at the couch.

"I'll wake you when we land," Morgan said, standing only to sit back down onto the seat his hoodie had been draped over.

Shifting under the thick warmth of Morgan's hoodie, the earlier exhaustion prodded at Reid's brain once more, beckoning him to sleep. He shut his eyes, feeling the fatigue taking over and pulling him into the realm of unconsciousness. And, with no energy to reply to Morgan, he fell asleep.

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It was 10:57 in the evening, and Reid was tired.

The case had enveloped them. Gideon more so, seeing as it was his first time back in the field since his medical leave began six months ago. But overall, the case seemed to have been handled well; Heather was saved, Richard Slessman was arrested, Tim Vogel was stopped, and Gideon had proven himself out in the field. Reid was happy, Morgan was happy, and Hotch was about as happy as Hotch could get.

It was a win that was desperately needed.

Now that the case was over, Hotch had arranged for the team to spend the night at a nearby hotel, wishing the men to get a good night's sleep before they had to return to Quantico in the morning. Reid could not find himself disagreeing with that plan at all, supporting the decision wholeheartedly. The nap on the jet had warded off his exhaustion some, but it had returned full force as soon as the case came to a close. He was looking forward to sleeping the hours away without worrying about anything except the pile of paperwork at his desk upon his return to the bureau.

Morgan, Gideon, and Reid all lingered in the lobby as Hotch got them checked in, conversing among themselves. The tension between Morgan and Gideon (albeit it was more on Morgan's part) had eased considerably; Morgan was now smiling freely and was looking more relaxed than he had been before the case began. Reid was pleased.

"We'll have to double up for the night," Hotch said as he approached them, drawing their conversation to a halt. He passed a key over to Morgan. "Me and Gideon, and Morgan and Reid. Get some sleep. We leave on the jet tomorrow at 9 AM, so be back down here by 8:30. Good night."

Hotch turned and walked toward the hall next to the front desk. Gideon followed after bidding the two men good night as well, leaving Morgan and Reid alone in the lobby. A small trickle of dread formed inside of Reid's chest as he adjusted the strap of his satchel on his shoulder. He definitely needed his sleep tonight, and depending on Morgan's mood, that desire may or may not be achieved.

Morgan turned to Reid and jerked his head in the direction of the same hallway, beginning to walk toward their room. Reid sighed and followed.

Their room was simple enough. Two beds, a TV, bathroom. Morgan tossed his bag onto the nearest bed with a huff, his joints popping as he stretched. Reid winced at the noise and claimed the bed closest to the window, dropping his satchel at the foot and placing his go-bag on the mattress.

"What do you think of that Greenaway girl?" Morgan asked, digging into his own go-bag for his sleeping clothes.

Reid, bemused by the question, pressed his lips together. "Elle? She's alright. Efficient, determined, strong. She'd make a good addition to the team."

Morgan lightly scoffed. Reid paused as he took out his sleeping bottoms. "Maybe. I guess we'll find out if Gideon lets her in."

"He should," Reid said firmly, ignoring the way Morgan looked at him in surprise. He quickly shed his sweater and slipped on a plain white tee. "What's with the question of Greenaway? You like her or something?"

A huff of baffled air escaped Morgan, and still Reid didn't glance up from his task of organizing his clothes in his go-bag. He, however, became increasingly aware of the footsteps slowly heading toward his side of the room, and of the low husky undertone in Morgan's voice as he spoke, hinting at something more. "Nah. She ain't my type."

Reid shivered, closing his eyes. Morgan was now at Reid's side, the warmth of his body radiating off of him as he got dangerously close, his breath grazing Reid's reddening ear. Reid swallowed hard, struggling to keep his breathing even as Morgan's hands cupped his elbows, sliding down to his forearms, his chest to Reid's back. "Morgan..."

"Hmm?"

"Not tonight. Please."

Morgan stopped. Reid waited in worried anticipation. Morgan was not a bad man, by any means. But there was still that lingering fear, irrational though it probably was, that Morgan would ignore his request and take what he wanted. He kept his eyes closed.

"Something wrong?"

Genuine concern coated Morgan's question, and Reid opened his eyes. "No, just... Not tonight."

"... Okay."

Morgan slipped away, and Reid sighed inaudibly, thankful for the space and mourning the loss of Morgan's body heat. The older man walked back to his side of the room, grabbing his sleeping clothes from the bed. He looked up, fixing his eyes on Reid. The younger man met his gaze as steadily as he could, blinking heavily. Morgan caught Reid's clear struggle with staying in the waking world, and his confusion morphed into compassion as he gently smiled at his friend.

"Get some sleep, Reid," he said, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

A large weight was lifted off of Reid's shoulders, nearly causing him to stumble in his relief. There was a dull ache of disdain toward himself for doubting Morgan's intentions and morale, but mostly he just felt so _tired_. He quickly changed into his sleeping bottoms and all but plopped down on the bed, throwing the covers over himself hastily. A deep exhale blowing past his lips, he shut his eyes.

It was 11:10 in the evening, and Reid was tired.

But it no longer had anything to do with sleep.

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So this is the layout of the first chapter rewritten. It is considerably shorter than the first version, seeing as I excluded the majority of the case this time around, but this version rings truer to what I initially wanted the plotline to be. Hope you all enjoy regardless! Next chapter should be up soon, so stay tuned!


	2. Where It All Began

A/N: Chapter two! So like I had mentioned before, this story, up until chapter 7, will remain close to the original plot of the first story. However, a few things will be subject to change to better fit what I want for the overall plot. You have already seen the first one at the end of chapter 1. Let's see what else is in store! Hope you all enjoy! Please leave a review with any constructive criticism or thoughts, I'd highly appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Criminal Minds.

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Their affair had begun a few months into Reid's start at the bureau.

New, young, and nerve-wrecked, it was easy for Reid to draw attention to himself during his first week. Agents curiously watched him go about his day, wondering what this new guy, this boy that couldn't be older than 20, was doing there. Used to this type of behavior since his days at school, Reid avoided eye contact with anyone unless absolutely necessary, keeping his eyes firmly at what was in front of him, brushing off the bristles of discomforting paranoia from being watched.

He met Jason Gideon and the chief director of the BAU right away, where they began an orientation of sorts for him. Seeing as how Reid was proven incapable of handling any form of physical training, or basically anything that wasn't strictly book-related, the director was at odds for allowing him to join the unit. However, a few days of coaxing from Gideon caused an exception to be made, and Spencer Reid joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Upon approval, Gideon took Reid to meet the rest of the team. The pretty communications liaison, Jennifer Jareau, was warm and inviting, her gentle smile helping to slightly calm Reid's nerves. She welcomed him into the bureau, and was openly amazed upon discovering Reid's age and the multiple degrees he had already earned. Reid shyly thanked her, grateful that she showed no signs of skepticism or doubt of his abilities.

Penelope Garcia's greeting was the complete opposite of JJ's in level of enthusiasm, but no less welcoming. The quirky blonde technical analyst grinned widely from ear to ear, her cinnamon eyes sparkling with delight underneath a pair of red-framed glasses. Bemused yet elated at how lively her personality and individuality were, Reid couldn't help but share in her delight as she cooed over him.

Apart from the women and Gideon, the only two people left to meet were Agents Hotchner and Morgan. The anxiety returned gradually as he walked into Agent Hotchner's office, his fingers flexing repeatedly at his sides as he followed Gideon into the room containing to two remaining agents.

Upon their entrance, Agent Hotchner turned to face them. Reid moistened his suddenly dry lips, apprehensive of the older man with the stern face and deeply furrowed brows. But then Hotchner stood up, a thin yet kind smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. He offered his hand, and handled it with grace when Reid showed signs of unwillingness to shake.

"Welcome to the team, Mr. Reid," Hotchner, or Hotch as he later dubbed him, greeted.

" _Doctor_ Reid," Gideon corrected firmly.

Momentarily glancing at Gideon in surprise, Hotch rectified his statement, turning back toward Reid. "Doctor Reid. Not medical?"

"No sir," Reid said. "PhDs in Engineering, Mathematics, and Chemistry, as well as two Bachelors in Psychology and Sociology."

Hotch's brows nearly disappeared into his hairline, they were raised so high. "Impressive."

Fighting back a blush at the praise, Reid ducked his head. "Thank you, sir."

"This is Agent Morgan," Gideon continued his introductions, gesturing to the second man in the room. Morgan, having already caught on to Reid's dislike of shaking hands, waved briefly. Reid nodded back. "Your workstation will be by his in the bullpen. He'll help show you the ropes around here, get you started."

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Reid," Morgan greeted, dipping his head in acknowledgment.

Reid swallowed, nodding. Morgan was smiling, but unlike Hotch and JJ and Garcia, his smile was scrutinizing, analyzing. Reid recognized the look; Morgan was sizing him up.

Reid performed a quick assessment in his mind and came to a few of his own conclusions: Morgan had to be a former athlete, football most likely, he was likely skeptical of Reid's entrance into the BAU, and he was probably distrusting and questioning Gideon's faith in his abilities at this very moment. Reid felt his worry increase. He had expected this to be the response of his teammates if the director had allowed him in, so he wasn't all that surprised.

But Morgan made him nervous. Perhaps it was because he possessed the same look that all football players back in high school used to fixate him with: strong, hard eyes, looking for the weakest kid in the bunch. Reid didn't need to be a genius to figure out who the weakest one in this bunch was.

Reid internally groaned as Gideon's words echoed in his mind.

" _Your workstation will be by his in the bullpen. He'll help show you the ropes around here, get you started."_

As the day progressed, one of Reid's assumptions about Morgan came true. They became situated at their desks following the meeting in Hotch's office. Slipping his go-bag in the alcove beneath his workstation, Morgan turned to Reid and began the questions.

"So tell me, how's a kid like you get into the FBI at your age? What are you, like 20?"

"I'm 22," Reid amended, setting his jaw. He avoided Morgan's watchful eye as he familiarized himself with his desk. "And I graduated from high school at the age of 12. I have an eidetic memory, have an IQ of 187, and can read 20 thousand words per minute."

"So you're like some sort of genius?"

"If it pleases you to see me that way, sure."

"Okay, okay," Morgan said, catching the testy snipe in Reid's tone as he sat up in his chair, hands raised in surrender. "Just wanted to know."

The days went by. And as they did, Reid grew confused over his initial thoughts about Agent Derek Morgan. Following their first encounter, Morgan became less and less skeptical and more and more... Accepting. He never crossed the line into personal territory, only asking questions of Reid's form of education and where he got it from. Reid willingly answered them, if only to appease Morgan's curiosity. And Morgan would nod and return back to his work, apparently satisfied with what he learned.

He didn't put Reid down due to his age anymore. He did take to calling Reid "kid," but he said it with a tinge of affection in his voice rather than spite, so Reid didn't mind it much, largely preferring it to the common names of "freak" and "nerd" and "geek" from his childhood.

The first time Morgan touched him seemed instinctual.

A few weeks into his job, Reid stayed behind in Quantico while Gideon, Hotch, and Morgan drove to Fredericksburg on a spree killer case, not yet allowed to be out in the field. He assisted his teammates over the phone, nervous but excited to be able to perform his job for the first time. He formed a geographic profile of the unsub's killings, calculating the area where the unsub was taking his victims and where he was likely to strike next, and was even able to detect a pattern of preference unseen by the other agents and officers. Through his aid and Garcia's research, they were able to find and capture the killer before he was able to take another victim.

It was a great first case, despite not being out in the field.

When the team returned, Reid was at his desk, finishing up his paperwork. He glanced up as the three men entered the bullpen, Gideon and Hotch engaged in quiet conversation as they made their way up to the second floor landing. Morgan, a few steps behind, turned and caught Reid's eye. Smirking, he sauntered over, dropping his go-bag and jacket onto his desk before coming to a stop before Reid's.

"Gotta say, that brain of yours really is something," Morgan praised.

Reid huffed lightly, glancing back down at his paperwork. "Hardly. You did all the work. I just looked at a map."

"No, no, no," Morgan said, placing his hand on Reid's desk and leaning his weight on it, tilting his head to meet Reid's eyes once more. "Don't put yourself down, kid. You did good today. _Real_ good. You'll be out in the field with us before you know it."

Reid grinned. "Thanks."

Morgan chuckled, pushing away from Reid's desk. Then, without warning, he leaned over and ruffled Reid's hair playfully, startling the younger man. Morgan didn't stick around the witness the reaction, though, for he immediately turned to walk to the bathrooms at the back of the bullpen.

It was the first time any member of the team had initiated any form of contact with him. There were no hands clapping his shoulder, no brushing of the arms, no handshakes. Reid _thought_ he preferred it that way.

But Morgan's hand tousling his hair, a gentle touch that was without malice, a starking contrast to when football players used to painfully noogie him or place him in a rough headlock, made him start to rethink that maybe physical contact didn't have to be so bad.

.

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Reid came out to Morgan about two months following their first encounter, and it had been unintentional.

Their professional relationship as colleagues had progressively morphed into a close friendship. It began when Morgan invited Reid out for drinks one Friday night after a long day of nothing but paperwork. Reid had been unsure at first, but grudgingly agreed after Morgan spent a few minutes of unrelenting begging and empty threats. Surprisingly, Reid had enjoyed himself, and when Morgan asked Reid out for drinks again a few weeks later, he agreed without much persuasion.

Soon it became routine that he and Morgan would go out, usually on the weekend, to a bar of Morgan's choosing. They would sit, a drink in their hand, and just talk about anything other than work, something to get their minds off the terrors of their job. They rarely delved into their personal lives, for neither was ready to reveal much about themselves, opting instead to speak of movies, books, music, or random trivia in Reid's case. Reid had been amazed to discover that Morgan had many of the same tastes as he did, and was thrilled when Morgan showed interest in actually discussing said books and movies with him.

Despite not drinking more than one bottle of beer whenever they went out, it was a great time, probably the most fun Reid ever had.

Then came the night that Reid got little more than tipsy.

Morgan had been insistent one night, wishing for Reid to drink a little more and "loosen that tight little white ass of yours." It was difficult to say no to Morgan, he soon found out, as the older man kept coaxing more drinks into his hand and watching as Reid threw them back. Inevitably, Reid's mind, usually sharp and clear, was soon clouded and muddled, his thoughts scattered and leaving him more than a bit confused. He wasn't drunk, but his judgment was surely compromised.

"Okay, what about her, with the red blouse?" Morgan suggested, gesturing with his beer bottle to a pair of women at the other end of the bar. She was with another girl in a tight pink dress and they were each clutching a shot glass in their hands. Reid frowned as they downed their shots and afterwards started laughing in a horrible, high-pitched shriek.

"No," Reid replied flatly. This was the third girl that Morgan tried to get Reid to talk to, and the third girl that Reid rejected.

Morgan tsked. "Ahhh, come on, _Reid_ -"

Maybe it was Morgan's persistence to set him up with a woman. Maybe he was just sick of hiding it for so long. Or maybe it was the fact that Morgan's scent, a mixture of Hot Water cologne and sweat from the warmth of the bar, was nearly as intoxicating as the alcohol that was messing with his head, but he finally blurted it out.

"How is it that you haven't figured out I'm gay yet?"

That stopped Morgan in his tracks. On the brink of taking a sip from his beer, Morgan paused, his face growing slack in surprise. He lowered the bottle from his lips, brows raised. Reid just groaned and laid his forehead to rest on his arm splayed on the countertop. Dazed as he was, he was fully aware that he had involuntarily revealed a personal fact about himself that he had hoped he would take with him to the grave. But despite this, he felt no dread or horror towards himself at the revelation, or to the knowledge that it was Morgan he revealed it to.

He just felt annoyance that it had happened.

"That was supposed to be a secret," Reid grumbled into his arm.

"Huh," Morgan said, licking his lips. "I was not quite expecting that."

Reid twisted his head to look at Morgan, eyes scrunched in turmoil and dizziness as a result of the movement. "You're... You're okay with this?"

Morgan shrugged. "Surprised me at first, but why wouldn't I be?"

Reid lowered his eyes to the sleek surface of the counter. "People that find out are usually... Hostile. That's why I don't make it a point to tell anyone."

He chanced another look into Morgan's face. Past the stupor he was in, Reid observed as Morgan's expression fell into something resembling sympathy, though he looked a lot sadder than sympathy warranted.

"Yeah, I hear you," Morgan mumbled. The older man took another sip of his beer and sighed. "Reid, I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Reid was floored. He was astonished that this was actually happening. He had just told Morgan he was gay, and Morgan accepted it. He even _apologized_ for the amount of suffering Reid had gone through growing up with this knowledge. Derek Morgan. Someone who, in Reid's experience, was not one to act this way to geeky, skinny, gay men. Men like Morgan, according to Reid, were the type to put Reid through hell because of who he was, just as they had in school.

His prior assumptions about Morgan were coming up false, and he couldn't be more ecstatic to be proven wrong.

"Thanks," Reid whispered, touched.

Morgan smiled. He leaned forward in his stool, his voice dropping so that only Reid could hear him. "Listen, kid. Other than my family, I never told anyone this before. But seeing as you just unwillingly outed yourself, I feel like it's only fair that you know... I'm actually gay myself."

It took a moment for Morgan's confession to register, but once it did, Reid thought his eyes were going to pop out of his sockets. His heart did a double take and a glimpse of something like _hope_ erupted in his chest. "What? _Seriously_?"

Morgan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. "Yeah. Shocking, huh?"

"Extremely!" Reid exclaimed, awed. "Here I was thinking you were the epitome of a ladies man."

"Nah, I'm just a natural flirt," Morgan said, waving away Reid's response as he took another swig of beer.

"Wow. What are the odds?" Reid muttered in wonder. "Two gay men in the BAU."

"Yeah, what are the odds?" Morgan agreed with a laugh.

It could not have been this easy. It should not have ended this well. There was absolutely no way Morgan had accepted Reid's sexuality as candidly as he did, but he _had_. All his life he had been ignored, pushed aside, treated like dirt. His own father had even abandoned him.

And the first person he had outed himself to, quite possibly his first true friend, had accepted him without question. He had actually been _accepted_.

Glee coated his insides, consuming him, and he laughed along with Morgan.

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The first time Reid kissed Morgan was after Reid's first case out in the field.

It had been a bad case. The worst.

Children. The victims were children. In one week, three young girls and one boy, none over the age of six, were taken from their homes in southern Iowa. Four sets of parents were gathered in the small police station, each prone to irritation and frantic for news. Tensions were high and moods shifted wildly in the duration of their time there. Gideon actually had to pull Reid out of the station for a breather on three separate occasions when he noticed the younger man was literally trembling under the overwhelming pressure.

By the end of the week, they had profiled, found, and apprehended their kidnapper. The unsub, a thin, twitchy man by the name of Charles Lester, broke and confessed to everything in the interrogation room under Morgan's authority, and he revealed where the children were.

They informed the parents at the station of Lester's confession, taking care to make sure the parents' hopes weren't too high; they still had to find the children alive, after all. But they couldn't help but feel a chord of optimism, embracing it after this terrible week, as they set out to the location given to them by Lester.

When they arrived to the isolated cabin in the woods, in shambles from age and nature, they swarmed the wooden structure, calling out the names of the missing children. They weren't in the house, but they refused to stop searching, spreading the perimeter past the cabin.

It was Hotch who found them. And they weren't alive. All of them stared in abject horror at the barbaric sight in front of them. They were all naked, or what remained of their bodies were. Each were mutilated, seemingly both by Lester and the wild animals of the woods, the once soft flesh torn and mangled, dried scarlet with blood. Eyes, before so wide and filled with wonder, stared blankly at the canopy above them, glassy and clouded.

Young Adrian Harris was _missing_ one.

Reid had to step away, stumbling back to the cabin.

Gideon followed him, catching up easily and gently grasping his elbow.

"C'mon, c'mon," he murmured, leading Reid to a more private area beside the cabin, away from the agents still surrounding the children.

As soon as they were out of sight, Gideon placed his hand firmly on Reid's upper back, pushing down. Almost as if his body were obeying some unspoken demand from Gideon, Reid lowered himself further and promptly hurled into the bushes.

Tears stung his eyes, both from the nausea and the heart-wrenching sorrow wrapping tightly around his heart and lungs, nearly taking away his breath. He gasped, coughing as more bile made its way up his throat. He vomited a second time.

"That's it, c'mon," Gideon whispered, patting Reid's back.

Coughing harshly, Reid spit the last of the taste out of his mouth, panting. He slowly raised himself upright, his legs trembling wickedly. Gideon stared at him, his dark eyes narrowed in worry.

"I'm okay," Reid breathed, wiping his mouth, sniffing wetly. "I'm okay."

Taking a shaky breath, he moved to rejoin the rest of the team, Gideon sticking close behind.

That was hardly the worst of it.

They arrived back at the station, broken, defeated. It was with a terrible jolt that they remembered the parents, still anxiously awaiting news. As soon as they entered the facility, they were attacked by eight different sets of questions, each demanding to know where their children were, eyes bright and so damn hopeful. Reid wanted to burst into tears right then and there.

But he didn't. He listened, trying to keep his face as stoic as he possibly could, as Hotch approached them. His voice steady, Hotch looked at the crowd of adults in front of him and said, "I'm sorry."

Reid watched as it sunk in to the mothers and fathers' faces just exactly what he meant. He closed his eyes, but he could still hear the piercing wails of the mothers as the shrill grief poured out of them.

Reid had to run to the bathroom as nausea threatened to overtake him once more.

On the jet ride home, no one spoke. No one dared to break the silence. Reid immediately sought solitude, isolating himself away from the concerned eyes of Hotch, Gideon, and Morgan. Hugging his knees to his chest, staring out the window as if in a trance, he searched his perfect memory for an answer. He scoured his mind for every detail of the case, every fact, every action taken, desperately trying to find out where they had gone wrong.

Where had _he_ gone wrong?

All the while, the images of the children, their smiling faces in their Missing Persons reports merging with their mangled, ripped remains, taunted him.

The jet landed back at Quantico before he knew it. Reid hastily grabbed his bags and jacket, climbing out of the jet before the other three men had a chance to say anything. He stalked across the terminal, intent on getting to the bus station as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse on his bed, get under the covers, and never reveal his face again.

"Reid! _Reid_!"

A hand landed on his shoulder, attempting to stop his brisk walk. Reid quickly reacted, whirling around and slapping the offended contact away from him with a hitched gasp. Morgan's slightly blurry form stared at him worriedly. Reid fought the urge to groan; his mind was already putting him through the wringer with his cursed eidetic memory, scattering his emotions, bringing up visions and images and the raw agony of mothers as they cried for their babies. He didn't know if he could handle Morgan's company at the moment.

"What do you want, Morgan?" Reid muttered, wincing at the coarseness of his voice.

"Reid… listen," Morgan murmured gently, stepping forward. "I understand. _Believe_ me, I do. And the best thing right now isn't to go home and be alone tonight."

Reid furrowed his brows.

"Just let me give you a ride home," Morgan continued, placing a hand on Reid's shoulder. "Please?"

The day had been too draining, leaving Reid tired and without any more will to fight or protest. So he nodded, allowing Morgan to steer him in the direction of his truck.

Just like the jet, the trip to Reid's place was silent, save for Reid's occasional direction to get to his apartment. Morgan kept his eyes mainly on the road, every so often casting quick glances to where Reid was sitting in the passenger seat. Reid could see this happening through his peripheral vision, but kept his gaze trained on the streets ahead.

He was slowly breaking, his voice growing thicker and cracking more frequently. He knew that Morgan noticed this, as well as Reid's quivering lip and the pale tears that began to make their way down his cheeks, yet he said nothing.

"I'm coming up," Morgan said as he parked in the lot beside Reid's apartment, cutting the engine. His tone left no other option but to obey, and Reid just nodded, another tear slipping down his face. Morgan grabbed his go-bag and swung Reid's own over his shoulder, free hand grasping the handle of Reid's satchel, forcing Reid to go empty-handed. Reid buzzed Morgan in to his apartment and quietly led him to his room.

He felt a vague sense of intrusion and embarrassment upon allowing Morgan into his home, seeing the books strewn everyone, stacked and in piles, in the otherwise clean apartment. A typical nerdy, bookworm apartment. Morgan didn't comment, dropping Reid's satchel by the door and placing their go-bags on the kitchen counter as Reid trudged into the living room.

"I'm sorry for the mess," Reid whispered.

"It's fine," Morgan assured.

Reid pressed his lips together tightly, dropping down on his couch. He leaned his forehead onto an open palm, elbow propped up on his knee. He could hear Morgan's approach, and felt the couch dip underneath him as Morgan sat down beside him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Reid felt a warm hand curl around the back of his neck, fingers caressing the strands of hair cascaded there.

He broke, a harsh cry ripping through his throat. Morgan appeared to have anticipated it, pulling on Reid's neck until Reid's brow was pressed against his shoulder. As Reid sobbed into Morgan's embrace, clutching at Morgan's shoulders and burrowing himself deeper into Morgan's arms, Morgan simply held him, a palm rubbing Reid's neck comfortingly.

"I know," he murmured in Reid's ear. "I know."

He continued that mantra as Reid cried. He never once said "It's okay" and Reid was thankful for that, because it wasn't. It wasn't okay, and it was never going to be okay, not for him, not for those children, not for those mothers and fathers whose cries and screams he can still hear resounding in his head-

His lips were pressed against Morgan's.

He could hear Morgan's grunt of shock, yet the older man made no move to break away. One half of Reid's mind was appalled by his actions but the other half, the stronger half, was intoxicated. He could taste the lamentations that slipped between their mouths, could feel the soft texture of Morgan's full lips underneath his own, could damn near taste _Morgan_. He could think of nothing to do besides lick a tentative stripe across Morgan's lips, and to his bewilderment and delight, Morgan parted them, allowing the kiss to deepen.

All rational thought disappeared, and he was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, of Morgan's hands splayed possessively across his back, of Morgan's tongue, hot and slick, inside his mouth, of Morgan's bare skin sliding against his own...

.

.

The first time they had sex was that same night.

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.

The first thing he caught sight of the next morning were the green numbers illuminated on his alarm clock, reading 8:43 AM.

With a tiny groan, he turned his face into his pillow, willing himself to get some more sleep. However, though Reid's body was loathed to awaken, his mind slowly began working its way back into reality. He became increasingly more alert of details surrounding himself as the seconds ticked by. First, he felt sore. _Really_ sore. He then noticed that he was topless, causing his already present confusion to elevate; he never went to bed without being fully clothed, finding little to no comfort in sleeping without a shirt, or just his underwear.

It was at that moment that he realized he wasn't just topless. He was completely naked.

Warning bells went off in his head, and he shifted his face out of his pillowcase, his stinging eyes snapping open in alarm.

"Reid?"

Reid flinched in fright, on the cusp of gasping out loud. His brain became flooded with memories of the night before, of Morgan and Morgan's body, tangled with his own, bare and hot and sweaty-

Oh God. _Oh God_.

Close to quivering in the new-found terror clutching his erratic heart, Reid twisted around to glance at Morgan. The older man was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at Reid over his shoulder. He looked as if he had been up a while, dressed in the sleeping clothes from his go-bag. He was regarding Reid with a blank look. This alone caused Reid's dismay to rise drastically; his profession allowed him to be able to read people, to understand what they were thinking from their actions and expressions. Morgan was refusing to allow him insight to anything, and the knowledge that Reid had no idea what Morgan was thinking about terrified him.

"We need to talk," Morgan muttered.

Reid bit his lip and slowly nodded. With yet another unpleasant shock, he noticed the mess splattered across his lower abdomen, and he anxiously adjusted the blanket around his waist.

Morgan informed him that Hotch had called earlier and given them the day off. They used it to their advantage, talking long and hard about what last night meant, to each individually and to their friendship.

Hours passed. Their talk stretched long into the day, until the setting sun painted the sky pink and orange with the approaching dusk. It was teary, it was grueling, and Reid's head was still swimming with every concern they spoke about.

But by the time Morgan left for home that evening, they had finally reached a mutual consensus: this would be a purely physical relationship. It was to be used as a release, a chance to go home together and forget about the hard reality of their jobs. They'd remain friends, would care for one another as friends would, but wouldn't allow that to affect their arrangement, or vise versa.

It was a simple, no-strings-attached solution that, in theory, could benefit them both. At the time, Reid had honestly believed he could do it. He truly thought he could live with having this purely physical, friends-with-benefits relationship with Morgan.

Now, as his gaze followed Morgan into the break room, observing the older man as he casually poured himself a cup of coffee, his heart feeling heavy in his chest... he was beginning to have doubts.


	3. 1x04 - Plain Sight - Caught Out

A/N: Huh. The amount of writing one can accomplish during an eight hour shift at work is quite astounding. I finished out the entire chapter in about five hours, and was editing for the rest of the time. I hope I did well! And I hope the fourth chapter comes as quickly as the third one did for me. Please leave a review to tell me what you think, I'd highly appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Criminal Minds.

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As the elevator doors closed before him and the cart gave a small jerk to ascend to the ninth floor, Reid took in a deep breath, leaning back against the pale interior wall, eyes closed. Fingers coiled around a heated cup of coffee, his free hand adjusted the strap of his bag. It dug uncomfortably into his shoulder, the weight of the enormous pile of completed case reports not helping matters.

Wishing to be productive and for an empty inbox the next morning, he had taken it upon himself to bring home the files he failed to finish at work. He had initially frowned upon seeing the amount he had to pack; he had been sure it wasn't _that_ many reports, last time he checked. However, a quick glance over to Elle and Morgan's less than half-filled inboxes had given him the answer. He had internally rolled his eyes, saying nothing to his coworkers as he packed the reports into his bag for the night, catching the none-too discreet grin of triumph on Morgan's face.

By the time he had placed the last finished file into his bag, it had been well into the early hours of the morning. He had given up on the prospect of achieving a decent amount of sleep that night, and opted to curl up on his couch and read the entirety of _War and Peace._ Twice.

He was regretting that decision now.

The elevator chimed upon reaching his floor. Reid peeled his eyes opened and pushed off the wall to exit the cart, taking a cautious sip of coffee as he went. In a few strides he made it to the glass doors, nodding in thanks to an agent holding it open for him.

He walked in and immediately froze.

"Hey, it's the birthday boy!" Morgan announced with a happy grin, catching the attention of JJ and Elle, who were conversing next to Reid's desk. The two women smiled at his tentative approach, watching as he gaped at the large cake on his desk, multiple blazing candles strewn around one corner of the chocolate surface.

Reid's heart stuttered as what Morgan said sunk in: today _was_ his birthday. His shock quickly morphed into perplexed comprehension and emotion swelled in his chest as he smiled back, baffled, at his coworkers, glancing between them and the cake in disbelief.

JJ was the first to approach him, her arms opening slightly almost in question. Catching on, Reid flashed her a small, reassuring smile and met her in a hug. This contact was much more intimate than he was used to, and he felt incredibly awkward and unsure in JJ's embrace, but the woman only stroked her hand down his upper back briefly before pulling away, beaming.

"Happy birthday, Spence," she said.

"Thanks," he muttered, his face heating up as he stepped away from her. He looked over to the flaming cake, still overwhelmed with bemused awe at his friends' actions. "Oh wow, I actually forgot it was my birthday today!"

" _What_? The great, all-knowing brain of Doctor Spencer Reid managed to forget he turns one year older today?" Morgan gasped, pressing an open palm to his chest in mock-horror. "Be still, my beating heart."

"Ha, ha, ha," Reid sarcastically answered, but lacked true scorn, smiling back at his friend, especially when Elle smacked Morgan's arm in his defense before she walked over to offer Reid her own hug. Over Elle's shoulder, he met Morgan's eyes, glimmering with mirth. "This is so great, you guys. Thank you."

Elle patted his shoulder as she pulled away. "It's nothing, Reid. Now, we won't put you through a horrible rendition of a birthday song, _but_ you still gotta blow out the candles."

"And!" Morgan cut in abruptly, whipping out the most horrendous looking thing resembling a hat that Reid had ever seen out of his desk drawer. "You have to do it wearing this. Courtesy of Garcia."

Reid blanched. "You know, on second thought, I think I actually needed to get to Hotch's-"

"Uh-uh, no backing out of this one, kid," Morgan interrupted, happily placing a firm hand on Reid's shoulder and leading him to his desk. Sitting Reid down, Morgan smacked Reid's hands away from his vain attempts to remove the offending article, and JJ and Elle merely laughed at the display, making no move to answer to Reid's weak protests. _Traitors_.

Reid frowned, both with exasperation and light humiliation, glaring at the bright blue brim of Garcia's cartoon, plush, _Happy Birthday_ hat above him. Morgan chuckled, patting the top of the hat affectionately.

"C'mon, blow out the candles before they melt into puddles of wax," Morgan urged.

"Make a wish," Elle encouraged, appearing by Reid's side.

Rolling his eyes at the ridicule he was being placed under, Reid went straight for blowing out the candles, the force of his breath sending wisps of gray smoke into the air as the fires extinguished. Just as he thought they were out, however, they came back on, the flames fluttering just as strongly as they had been before. He blew once more, harder this time, only to achieve the same result. They kept relighting themselves. Wildly confused and partially giddy with the excitement equivalent to that of a child's, he kept on.

"Come on, man! Blow, baby, _blow_!" Morgan cheered, hand on Reid's upper back.

"I thought you were full of hot air, Reid," Elle said, joining in on the ribbing.

"Come on, Reid!" Morgan exclaimed, his voice shaking and higher in pitch from restraining his own bout of laughter.

Seeming to take pity on Reid's bewilderment, JJ cut in, "They're trick candles, Spence. Okay? They're gonna-They're gonna come back on every time."

That didn't stop Reid from once more harshly blowing at the candles, sitting back with amusement and a slightly dizzy head. Morgan jokingly cooed over him, grabbing the rims of his hat and bobbing his head lightly.

"Awww, mommy to the rescue!" he teased.

Reid frowned, turning to glance at Morgan over his shoulder. "Mommy?"

"Ignore him," Elle huffed, shaking her head at Morgan's antics.

Voice thick with ill-restrained hilarity, Morgan lowered himself to Reid's level and got the younger man's attention. "Hey Reid? Does this make you legal yet?"

"Oh, very funny," Reid muttered, face flushed.

"Hope you like chocolate," Elle said, moving forward.

"Oh, look. You blew wax on the cake, man," Morgan noted, inclining to grab a fork to wipe away the colorful, hardened wax from the frosting.

By now Reid became uncomfortably aware that JJ and Elle were flanking at his sides, leaning over Reid to grab at the utensils next to the now put-out cake. And behind him, he could feel Morgan lightly pressed up against his head. Reid's fingers twitched on his thighs restlessly, his foot began tapping, his heart rate accelerated, and his muscles locked. A hug, he could stand, even enjoy. People surrounding him at every angle, much less pressed up against him... Not so much.

He finally just stood, taking care not to accidentally strike one of his teammates as he did so, and stepped away from the crowd. He took in a deep inhale, feeling the anxiety ebb away a little as the space around him increased.

Once he had returned to a sense of normalcy, he looked up and spotted Gideon leaning against the cabinets by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. Reid made his way over, feeling the humiliation burn within him as he remembered the hat currently on his head.

"You having fun?" Gideon asked.

"Oh yeah, I'm definitely having fun," Reid answered, humored cynicism lacing his words. He was overjoyed that his teammates, his friends, had taken it upon themselves to throw him a makeshift birthday party when he himself had forgotten, that they had even remembered at all, but at the same time he felt extraordinarily exposed and a little uncomfortable for the fuss.

"You make a wish?"

Glancing up at the bright-blue brim, Reid tried hopefully, "Can I take this hat off?"

Lower lip jutting out thoughtfully, dark eyes swimming with humor, Gideon said, "I wouldn't."

"Hey Spence!"

Reid looked up and met eyes with JJ, who was holding a plate containing a thick slice of chocolate cake. As Reid answered her call, she smiled brightly, hoisting the plate up higher. "First slice for the birthday boy!"

Reid breathed out a chuckle, turning back to Gideon momentarily. "You know she's the only person in the world who calls me _Spence_?"

Without waiting for Gideon's response, he turned and walked back toward the party, allowing Morgan to once again grab his shoulder and place him back in his chair. Huffing at his friend, he turned to JJ, who handed him the plate she had been displaying, as well as a fork. Grinning, he thanked her, and went to take a bite of the cake.

At that moment, Hotch appeared, looking grim.

"Sorry, guys. Party's over," he said,walking around the landing toward the elevators. "Unfortunately, we've caught a case in San Diego. We brief on the jet in ten minutes."

The party atmosphere died down pretty fast after that. Each with a saddened grimace, Elle and JJ bade Reid a final "happy birthday" before they turned to follow Hotch out of the bullpen, JJ grazing her hand on Reid's shoulder as she went. Reid thinly smiled, taking off the accursed hat. He bent to grab his bags from the space underneath his desk.

"Bad luck, kid."

Reid glanced up from his task to meet Morgan's brown eyes looking regretfully down at him, his go-bag hoisted over his shoulder. Morgan smiled softly as Reid raised himself upright, his satchel clutched in one fist and his go-bag in the other.

"We'll make it up to you when we get back from the case. Go out or something," Morgan insisted.

Reid shook his head, quickly taking the completed files from his satchel and placing them in his outbox. He turned and beckoned Morgan to follow him, and the two men began walking to the elevator after the rest of the team, where Reid caught sight of Gideon striding toward the stairs.

"You really don't have to, this was definitely enough," Reid replied, his smile raising easily. "More than enough. I was actually surprised that you all remembered."

Morgan flashed him a quick grin. "Well, duh. Apparently, if we left it up to you, it would have completely went over our heads. I can't believe you forgot _your own birthday,_ man."

"I was busy!"

"Yeah, I noticed the overflowing pile of case reports."

"I wanted to have it finished."

"Got time to do mine?"

Reid furrowed his brows in exasperation, shoving at Morgan's shoulder as the other man laughed. The light banter between the two men continued all the way to the terminal, where the rest of the team had already boarded the jet. Upon approach, Morgan and Reid fell into a comfortable silence as they hurried across the landing with a quick, almost jogging pace, climbing the stairs and ducking inside. Being the last ones to board, Reid and Morgan separated to available seats close enough to the rest of the team for the briefing.

Hotch, who had already opened his report and was examining it as the two men entered, glanced up to look at Reid. A smile graced his lips as the younger man took notice of his actions. "Happy birthday, Reid. I'm sorry to pull you away from your party."

Reif waved away Hotch's apology, sitting down at his seat and accepted a case file from JJ. "Don't worry about it. Thanks."

Hotch nodded once. "Alright. Well, let's begin." He lowered his eyes to the report once more. "Brenda Samms was found yesterday by her children when they got home from school. She had been strangled with a thin ligature, possibly a wire."

"No weapon left at the scene," Elle noted.

"Residue on the wrist and mouth indicate that duct tape was used then removed," Reid added, holding up the crime scene photos of Brenda Samms' body.

"Also not found at the scene," Hotch replied.

"Brought it with him, took it with him," Elle said.

"He also started leaving messages at the fourth scene," Hotch continued, holding up a picture of red lettering found on a mirror found at the crime scene. "This was on the mirrors. _Fair lady, throw those costly robes aside_."

At that intro, a strong feeling of recognition awakened inside of Reid and he looked up, brows pinched together intriguingly and a prod of familiarity forming inside his mind. He had heard that somewhere before.

" _No longer may you glory in your pride. Take leave of all your carnal, vain deligh_ _t-_ _._ "

"- _I've come to summon you away this night_ _!_ " Reid concluded, a rush of excitement bubbling in his chest as he placed where he knew the piece from. "Uh, it's a ballad from the late 1600s. A dialogue betwixt death and a lady."

He pretended not to notice Morgan's lost expression as he threw his arms out in exasperation at this revelation.

"A 17th century ballad?" Elle questioned.

"Yeah, essentially a woman begging death to live," Reid answered.

While he was speaking, his eyes absentmindedly flickered over to where Morgan was sitting. As Reid spoke, the older man looked back down at his report with a silent scoff, shaking his head. Something churned unpleasantly inside his chest at this observance, and Reid turned and looked away, biting his lip.

"What kind of person knows this ballad?" Elle asked. "Are we looking for a literature professor?"

"Anyone with an internet connection, actually," Reid said, huffing out a breath of laughter as he continued, "You should see what come in when you type the word 'death' into a search engine."

"Reid, no wonder you can't get a date!"

Reid knew that this was meant to be a joke, a teasing little jibe between friends. The rational part of his mind recognized this and he knew that Morgan truly meant no harm. But the other part of his mind, the part that wouldn't stop sending him reminders that it was _Morgan_ that was saying this, registered this as almost a personal attack. It caused a dull ache to throb hopelessly in the pit of his stomach and his already thin smile faltered.

"Reid, you stay on the messages. See if there's a deeper meaning," Gideon suggested.

Moving on, Morgan pointed out, "Well, it definitely looked like he ransacked the crime scene pretty well."

"A lot of damage, nothing taken," Hotch added.

"The _eyes_ are the thing, the signature," Gideon put in. "The behavior that isn't necessary for the murder, but necessary for the emotional release. That's what he's here for."

"There used to be a widely held belief that the eyes record a snapshot of the last thing a person sees before they die," Reid offered.

"Yeah, that's right, people used to write poems about talking to death," Morgan contributed.

"... Ballads," Reid said, unable to help himself.

Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes. " _Whatever_."

Reid gave an invisible flinch at what he interpreted as hostility leaking into Morgan's voice. As soon as he thought that, however, he felt angry with himself; he had endured years of peers' frustration because of his extensive knowledge, and it should have gotten to the point where by now it shouldn't even bother him. But it still did, and it still stung, hurt blooming inside him as he averted his eyes away from Morgan once more.

"You think they'll ever run out of new things to do to their victims?" Elle asked, staring down at the picture of the ballad verse left on Brenda's wall.

"Well, finding new ways to hurt each other is what we're good at," Gideon said, his dark eyes flitting towards Reid, light suspicion in his eyes. Reid looked away quickly, unwilling to meet the piercing gaze of the elder profiler. The briefing concluded, Reid closed his file and slipped it into his bag, ignoring the chilling sensation of being watched from two separate angles.

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The days went by. Reid's birthday came and went with little to no thought from the youngest team member; he hardly felt the need to concern himself with the new-found age of twenty-four, focusing instead on the case and the progression of capturing the Tommy Killer, Franklin Graney. He had almost forgotten about his birthday entirely, until Gideon pulled out a carefully wrapped present on the jet ride home.

"Forgot to give it to you at the party," Gideon said, handing the gift to Reid.

Slightly stunned, Reid unwrapped the present to reveal a small box containing two tickets. He smiled politely, taking the tickets out of the box. "Wow. The Red Skins."

"It's a VIP box."

"Wow," Reid murmured, examining the tickets. "Thank you so much."

"Ever been to a pro football game?"

Reid huffed out a laugh as his unasked question was answered. "No. I honestly didn't even know this was football."

Gideon chuckled fondly. "You're gonna love it."

His mouth protruding in a questioning pout, Reid looked up from the tickets to face his mentor. " _We_ are. You're coming with me, right?" The confused smile on his face gradually fell as Gideon shook his head.

"No. I actually had someone else in mind for you to bring along to the game," Gideon said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

With this statement, the atmosphere around the two men rapidly took a serious turn, leaving behind an air of apprehension. Reid lightly began chewing on his bottom lip as Gideon paused for a moment, a contemplative expression coming across his worn face. Reid made to open his mouth to ask Gideon just who he was recommending, but came to an abrupt halt as Gideon's eyes flickered, locking onto Reid's own hazel orbs.

In a low mutter, Gideon spoke, "Tell me, Spencer... How long have you and Agent Morgan been involved with one another?"

The reaction was immediate. The blood within Reid's veins turned cold, draining from his limbs as it rushed to compensate for his suddenly accelerating heart, pulsing frantically within the confines of his ribcage. His pulse was everywhere, a stuttering, racing beat that overtook his senses, blood and heat and cold throbbing inside Reid's ears. The small gasp that escaped his lungs swept dryness across his mouth, his tongue feeling hard and foreign as he struggled furiously to form words. His mind, usually so quick with an answer, was completely blank in his panic. He stammered, unable to decide whether to answer the question, to deny it, to spout a random fact, to say or do _something_ other than just gawk at his expectant superior like an _idiot_.

"... I..." Reid choked out, shaking his head minutely. "I-I don't, uh.. I-"

He gave a small start as Gideon raised his hand to stop him, flinching out of his petrified state.

"Don't try to lie to me, Spencer," Gideon said lowly, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he gave a taut smile.

Reid gaped for a moment longer before letting out a sharp exhale, his shoulders hunching in within himself as he released the shock and gradually began taking in the impending dread. His eyes darted back down at the chessboard between them, bristles of horror and shame pricking at him from all points.

"... H-How did you find out?" he whispered, ducking even further to hide behind his fallen fringe.

"I'm good at my job, Spencer," Gideon replied easily, a gentle smoothness sneaking into his voice. "The fact that I've been away from the field for six months hasn't changed that."

Reid found himself unwilling to answer to that and shrunk further back into his chair.

"So how long?"

Swallowing thickly, Reid moistened his lips and croaked, "Ten months, three weeks, and four days."

Gideon nodded slowly, finally taking his eyes away from Reid and looking back down at the chessboard. Deep in thought, he quietly moved a rook to his desired place, all while Reid waited, worrying his inner lip and trembling in anticipation as he waited for his supervisor to speak.

Keeping his head down, his eyes fixated on the board, Gideon muttered, "It seems like a pretty long time to keep it hidden."

Reid shifted, hesitantly reaching out and sliding a pawn forward. "We had to. It would have been frowned upon, seeing as fraternization between employees within the bureau have-"

"I wasn't talking about you and Morgan," Gideon cut in, looking back up at Reid.

Taken aback by the firm interruption and by his apparent misinterpretation, Reid softly cleared his throat. "Then what- then what were you talking about?"

The game of chess abandoned for the time being, Gideon shifted the board off to one side of the table, leaning his arms against the surface, hands clasped in front of him. After making sure Reid was listening carefully and not avoiding his gaze, Gideon said, "I'm talking about your feelings for him."

Reid's chest felt like it had been punched. Hard. His lungs, already having suffered from the shock of before, felt like they were once more empty of all air, leaving him breathless. Had it been anyone else telling him this, he would have already been denying it by now, albeit probably not very convincingly, but denying it nonetheless. But it was _Gideon_ , who knew him all too well, and Reid felt the quivering walls he held up within him for the last year crumble to dust as his hazel eyes narrowed and closed in defeat.

He was tired. He had been fighting it for so long, lying to himself for so long. He shoved his personal longing and desires off to one side, ignoring what he truly wanted for the sake of maintaining this relationship, or lack thereof, with Morgan. It was all he felt now, and all he _couldn't_ feel, _shouldn't_ feel.

Reid shook his head. "Gideon, it's... It's not like that."

"But you want it to be," Gideon urged softly.

Reid looked out the window of the jet, observing the darkening sky and the pink clouds around them. The sun's beams glared at the horizon, stretching streams of orange and yellow as it began to set.

"Maybe," Reid admitted quietly. "But it doesn't matter what I want. It's not like that. And it won't ever be."

He surprised himself with the sudden, broken conviction that slipped into his voice at those last words, and by the sharp incline of Gideon's brow, the elder man was as well. Roughly clearing his throat once more, blinking rapidly and giving a delicate sniff, Reid held up the tickets that were still in his hand.

"Thank you for the gift, Gideon," he said, beginning to hand them back. "But I can't use them how you want me to, I'm sorry."

Gideon made no move to take back the tickets. He maintained his position, eyeing Reid closely.

"This is no way to live, Spencer," Gideon said, shaking his head almost sorrowfully. "You shouldn't do this to yourself."

"I don't know if I can stop," Reid whispered, placing the tickets on the table and crossing his arms over his chest, clenching his hands into fists. "I don't know what to do."

"You can start by talking to Morgan," Gideon said, palms upward in suggestion. "Take it from someone with a failed relationship in his past, lack of communication between two people, whether they are together or whether they are just friends, ruins things faster than any conversation topic would. It's worth the risk."

The thought alone of speaking to Morgan about his increasingly less-than-platonic feelings towards the man was enough to send a jump start to Reid's heart, his chest constricting terribly. He shook his head remorsefully. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

Gideon pursed his lips together. "Well. See that you at least try to consider that possibility, and soon. I don't want to see you getting hurt, Spencer."

Reid smiled at this, though his lips still felt tight.

"Now," Gideon said, his demeanor changing swiftly as he leaned back in his chair, gesturing toward the tickets between them. "Though I was hoping you'd agree to my first suggestion to who should join you at the game, I will admit I also considered the possibility that you wouldn't. That's why I propose for someone else to join you."

Reid furrowed his brows and asked, "Who?"

"The only person in the world to call you 'Spence,'" Gideon answered easily, smiling warmly.

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End of chapter three! Gideon knows! I hope the conversation between Gideon and Reid was more believable in this version of the story. I tried to maintain their friendship as close to canon as possible, what with Gideon looking out for Reid's personal interests, and Reid's fear of perhaps disappointing his mentor. There will be more of that coming up in later chapters, though Gideon's involvement between the relationship of Morgan and Reid will remain more or less as sticking to the background.

I'm debating whether or not I should include the aftermath of the Red Skins game. JJ and Reid's friendship is something I really do want to elaborate on, since it's so important to the both of them in later seasons. We'll see how that goes. If you guys have any suggestions or ideas that you'd like to see explored in this story, please let me know! Hope you all are enjoying it so far!


	4. 1x05 - Broken Mirror - Wrong Impressions

A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of updates lately; school has seriously started to kick my behind, and even more so now that I am taking nursing courses in the spring. Pray for me guys! I've been getting a lot of inspiration for this story lately, and it helps that my friends have now gotten into _Criminal Minds_ and are still on the first season. Revisiting the first season is really odd after only watching the tenth season recently, but I still love it.

A small BTW, according to the very minimal research I did, the Redskins lost the game on October 16, 2005 against the Kansas City Chiefs. Since the case in the fourth episode ended on October 11 and the case is the fifth was from October 17 to19, that's the game I'll be using for Reid and JJ's little 'date.' Yay for accurate (?) research! Also, this chapter contains a shift in point of view. It starts off with Reid, but it will shift to Morgan as the chapter progresses. Just so that you guys got it and know that this entire story won't just focus on Reid's point of view, though the majority may. Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Criminal Minds.

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 _October 17, 2005... 2 AM_

"God, that game was _so close!_ " JJ exclaimed, sliding into the seat of the cab and immediately scooting over to make room for Reid. Reid nodded at her elated frustration as he slipped in beside her, shutting the door behind him as he entered. He leaned forward to recite his address to the cab driver and as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, he turned to face JJ.

"I'm sorry your team lost, JJ," Reid said, his lips stretched into a tight frown.

The game had indeed been close. The advantage had been in the Redskins' favor at the beginning, the Washington team taking the lead over the Kansas City Chiefs with a score of 7-6. JJ had been ecstatic and her enthusiasm was certainly contagious; as time went on, Reid had gradually become more and more comfortable in the roaring crowd, especially in the presence of a friend, and he had actually found himself cheering along with the rest of the attendants, a huge grin on his face when the Redskins made it to halftime in the lead.

However, that happiness had been short-lived as the Chiefs quickly caught up, somehow managing to bring the game to a tie by the end of the third quarter. Tensely, Reid had watched the rest of the game in near silence, fists clenching and relaxing on top of his thighs as he mumbled statistics and strategies under his breath. JJ had seemed on edge as well, though admittedly less than Reid, watching the game more calmly and intently than she had been in the first half. Evidently, the fourth quarter had come and ended, and the Redskins' premature win suddenly became a loss with an overall score of 21-28.

JJ had huffed in exaggerated disappointment, but when Reid had turned to look at her, she had been smiling. He had felt a vague sense of confusion at this observation; he himself had been pretty upset that the Redskins had lost, but more so because JJ probably hadn't enjoyed herself to the fullest at the game rather than the actuality of the team losing.

Back in the cab, the woman whipped her head around to face him, blonde hair flowing towards the front of her shoulders. Her baby blue eyes were round in exhilarated confusion, and her thin brows were quirked in question.

"Don't be, Spence!" she replied, nudging his shoulder. "I had a great time. Thank you so much for inviting me to this game."

Shying away from the gratitude, Reid ducked his head. "It's nothing. Gideon told me you were a big fan, and I couldn't pass up on taking you to the game."

"He gave you the tickets, right?" JJ said, adjusting the maroon cap on her head.

Reid nodded. "Yeah. For my birthday."

"Not that I'm complaining, but how come you didn't take _him_ to the game?" JJ asked, tilting her head. "Or Morgan, for that matter? You, uh, you seem a lot closer to them than you are to me."

Reid shrugged. He wasn't about to tell JJ the truth, that Gideon hadn't planned on ever going to the game in the first place, intending the tickets to be for him and Morgan. JJ was a good person, and she was no last resort. He genuinely had a nice time with her tonight.

So he fluidly replied, "Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to change that."

At this, JJ seemed to freeze up, the previously composed expression in her eyes flinching into one of mild alarm. Reid furrowed his eyes momentarily, puzzled at her rapid change into negativity. Then he suddenly caught on, his eyes widening and his hands raised in front of him as he rushed to explain.

" _Oh_! I didn't, uh, I didn't mean for it to sound like, like this was a _date_. I just- Y'know, we both work together! And I-I-I just figured that, you know, since you were a fan of the Redskins and Gideon bought these tickets for me and someone else that- well, it wasn't a _date_ , if that's what you're worried about, I just-"

"Spence, Spence, _Spence_ ," JJ cut in, placing a hand on his shoulder as he frantically stammered through his explanation. Reid stopped at her interruption, swallowing as he felt the heat of an embarrassed blush spreading across his neck.

JJ smiled, though Reid noted it was slightly strained and taut, not as easy as it had been before. "I got it. And it was... Really sweet of you to invite me out. Thanks."

Unable to speak past the dryness in his throat and mouth, Reid could only nod, sinking his head down as he rested his back against his seat once more. The tiniest of urges inside of him was telling him to tell JJ the true reason of why he didn't want to consider this a date and why she shouldn't either. Now that Gideon knew and, to Reid's understanding, accepted his orientation, Reid felt compelled to want to see if his other colleagues would accept him as well. But the larger part of his mind shut that idea down instantly; should his colleagues inquire about it, Reid _might_ tell them in time, but otherwise he wanted to keep that private part about himself to himself.

So he kept his mouth shut. The rest of the ride to Reid's apartment was spent in delicate silence, with Reid watching the dark scenery zip past them outside and JJ constantly adjusting her cap. By the time the cab pulled up to Reid's apartment complex, Reid was itching to get out. Yet, he forced himself to linger a second longer, turning back to JJ.

"So, uh... I guess I'll see you at work," Reid said lamely.

JJ nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you at work."

Reid inclined his head in a stiff nod and opened the door, climbing out of the cab. As he shut the door, however, he saw JJ shifting across the seat to his side, and the window lowered. He paused, waiting as JJ's face came into view.

"Spence, I just want to say..." JJ began, trailing off. She seemed to struggle with something, and then she sighed, smiling. "Thanks again for today. I had a great time."

Flustered, Reid's lips twisted into what he hoped was, at best, an awkward grin. "Yeah... My pleasure, JJ."

Her smile lifting, she said, "I'll see you at work."

"Yeah, see ya."

Reid didn't take his eyes off her as she shuffled to sit back into her seat, facing the front. Her window rose up all the while, and Reid watched as she leaned forward and inaudibly told the driver her address. After a short moment, the cab pulled away from the curb, leaving Reid to stare after the bright red taillights as it drove away. He stood there for a moment longer, hands shoved deep into his pockets and brow lowered in thought, even after the cab turned the corner and disappeared into traffic.

He didn't really know for certain what to make of this day. JJ and him were friendly at work, sure, and he definitely felt comfortable enough to invite her out to the Redskins game. But actually being out alone with her, the absence of the rest of their colleagues strikingly evident, wrecked his nerves. It wasn't the trembling, knees-locked reaction of asking a girl out; quite obviously, his intentions with her had been purely platonic.

But still, she made him anxious. JJ was intelligent and athletic and beautiful, and like with Morgan, Reid had made assumptions about her character upon their first interaction when Gideon had introduced them to one another.

And JJ, like Morgan, like everyone else on this team, had proven him wrong. She was warm towards him, though she was not immune to the frustration that came with being on the receiving end of Reid's intellect. She smiled easily around him, respected his desire for space, and was just overall kind.

Her response to thinking Reid had asked her out on a date bothered him, though, and she probably still believed that, seeing as how Reid had made a fool of himself in his frantic attempt to deny it. Tuesday morning would more than likely be a little awkward.

Maybe one day, he'd tell her. Maybe.

Reid blew out a long exhale and turned to walk up to his apartment. As he strolled up the walkway, he retrieved his phone from his pocket. He had had it off for the majority of their trip in Missouri under Hotch's recommendation. Switching the power back on, Reid palmed the device as he let himself into the building. It was when he was ascending the stairs to the second floor that the mobile vibrated in quick succession with multiple texts. Pulling out his keys , he looked at his phone and activated his messaging app.

 _From: Aaron Hotchner_

 _Date: October 16, 07:36 PM_

 _Message: I know you have a late flight back home, so you and JJ have the day off tomorrow to rest up from the trip. I better not see either of you two until Tuesday._

Reid couldn't help smiling a little at that. JJ had informed him of this earlier, having not turned off her phone. He clicked the left button to view the latest text.

 _From: Derek Morgan_

 _Date: October 16, 10:32PM_

 _Message: Hope you and JJ enjoyed the game. I expect details ;)_

Reid pinched his brows together, flipping his phone shut. He twisted the key into the lock of his door and let himself in. Closing and relocking the door, Reid placed his keys on the designated hook by the door, kicked off his shoes, slid them to the wall, and headed toward the kitchen.

Morgan had explained to him what emoticons were after introducing him to the world of texting a few months back. Really, Reid saw no point in it, but humored Morgan nonetheless when the older agent decided to grace him with a smiley face or frowny face or whatever emoticon suited his mood during the time of said text. Tonight, it was a winking face. Usually used to indicate flirting (or that's how Morgan usually used it), to Reid it felt a little off tonight. Details... What details? About the game itself?

Because obviously Morgan knew that Reid and JJ weren't on a date tonight. JJ may have gotten the wrong impression earlier, but Morgan _for sure_ knew.

Shaking his head and shrugging away the questions, Reid shut off the screen monitor. It was then that a deep wave of drowsiness hit him, and he suppressed a yawn as he trekked toward his room, intent on sleeping tomorrow morning away.

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 _October 18, 2005... 11 AM_

The morning he was due to return from his mini-vacation, Reid strolled down the hall from the break room, heading toward the bullpen. He raised his cup of hazelnut flavored coffee to his lips, and nearly burned his tongue as a shoulder suddenly pushed against his own. Restraining a grunt, he glared minutely at his companion, narrowing his eyes as this was answered with a low chuckle. Reid gave an indignant huff, his glare morphing into a small and shaking his head in exasperation.

"So, what happened with you and JJ at the Redskins game?" Morgan asked.

Reid felt troubled at the whispered eagerness in Morgan's voice, but he just raised his lips into a faint smirk and replied semi-playfully, "That's top secret."

Morgan opened his mouth to reply, but -

"Derek, hey!"

Both Morgan and Reid turned around at the sudden interruption of Agent Darcy Rivers, who was leering at Morgan with faux reproach and a dangerous spark in her eye that had nothing to do with anger as she approached them. Reid's fingers tightened instinctively around the stack of case files cradled to his chest.

"I put the transcript from the last prison interview on your desk," she said, pivoting to continue facing Morgan as she walked past.

"Okay," Morgan replied with near disinterest. A pleasant ache emerged in the pit of Reid's stomach at Morgan's dismissive attitude toward the female agent. He pressed the files closer to his chest, hoping the pressure would help to quell it down.

"You could have sent it interoffice," Darcy said, walking backwards now.

"I could have," Morgan answered in the same manner, though now he turned completely away from Darcy, an easy, indifferent expression on his face as they walked further and further away from the woman. In Reid's line of sight, Darcy's confident demeanor fell as she turned back around and continued her brisk walk to her destination.

Slightly encouraged at the exchange, though trying not to be, Reid smirked more openly. "Must be tough, man."

"Not really," Morgan shrugged.

"What do you mean? You don't do _anything_ and these women are throwing themselves at you!"

Morgan rumbled with soft laughter as he tilted his head pointedly at Reid. "Strictly off-limits, Reid. These ladies don't need to know that I bat for the other team. In fact, no one does."

Reid visibly cringed.

They reached the bullpen area, streaming with fellow BAU agents, and Morgan's voice steadily dropped to a lower volume. Reid got to his desk and lowered his satchel gently to the floor. He placed his coffee on the desk surface and sat down, light stabs of hurt blossoming within him.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he whispered.

Morgan's head snapped up from where he was standing by Reid's desk. His dark brows raised in a some resemblance of surprised remorse as he caught the apparent offense on Reid's face. The older man sighed, leaning the back of his thighs against the desk.

"I wasn't implying it was," Morgan defended. "I just... It's no one else's business, that's all. No one needs to know every aspect about my life. Some things... You have a right to keep some things to yourself. Especially here."

Reid nodded slowly, grasping on to the logic of Morgan's argument. It was similar to what he had been thinking during the time he spent with JJ last night; no one, save for Gideon and Morgan, needed to know about his preferences. It was no one else's business. Yet much of one's personal life could be uncovered in an occupation such as their own. Eventually, one way or another, people would find out. Reid's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Reid! Morgan!"

Both men turned away from each other as Hotch's call cut through the otherwise tender atmosphere. The unit chief was looking down at the bullpen towards them, Elle at his side, and walking to the conference room with quick steps. At their attention, he announced, "Document's up on the screen regarding the kidnapping of Trish Davenport."

Shifting his entire focus on his boss, Reid quickly leapt up from his chair, maneuvering around his and other stray chairs as he made his way to the stairs. Behind him, he could hear Morgan's footsteps following him to the landing.

"Have you read them yet?" Reid asked, directing the question to Hotch.

As he spoke, Morgan's hand unconsciously brushed Reid's own on the rail as they ascended the stairs. Playing off the flinch at the unexpected contact, Reid lifted his hand higher on the rail and jogged a little quicker up the steps.

"Yeah, I got a copy from the document examiner," Hotch assented.

"What did it say?" Morgan asked.

"That we've got until 8 o'clock tonight."

They all headed into the conference room, and Gideon, who was already inside, greeted their arrival with a raised brow. The documents of the new Davenport case were indeed pulled up on the monitor, and Reid approached the screen as his teammates gathered around.

"You will follow instructions carefully. You will do this to ensure the safety of your daughter. You will wait for the will answer the call at 8 PM. You will write down the instructions and follow them to the letter," Reid read, enunciating each written word carefully.

"That gives us less than nine hours to get to Connecticut, work up victimology on Trish Davenport, and prepare her father for the ransom drop," Hotch listed.

"How do we know the letter's real?" Gideon asked.

"Uhh." Hotch clicked the appropriate button, pulling up the accuracy results of the letter versus a sample of the Davenport girl's handwriting. "The handwriting is a match for Trish's. He dictated it to her. And they found saline in the paper."

"Her tears," Gideon muttered.

"He never says ' _I,_ '" Morgan added in, arms folded over his chest. "He doesn't say ' _I will call,_ ' he says, ' _You will answer the call.'_ He's distancing himself from the kidnapping. If he said _'I,_ ' he'd be taking responsibility for it."

"There's also another missing element: no mention of the police," Elle noted. "Ransom notes almost always forbid police involvement."

"So is he expecting law enforcement to get involved?" Hotch asked the room.

"Well, if he's expecting us..." Gideon answered, his hawk eyes scrutinizing the screen before him. "... Let's not disappoint him."

Hotch nodded and swiftly walked out of the room, Elle close behind. Reid cast one last, analyzing look toward the letter on the monitor before he too left the conference area, leaving behind Gideon to frown at the screen.

He could sense Morgan behind him before he actually felt the hand on his shoulder, but he still jumped at the contact either way. Morgan appeared not to notice his miniature flinch, grinning wolfishly at him. Reid forced himself to swallow down the hard lump that rapidly managed to lodge itself in his throat, attempting to moisten his suddenly dry airway at the sight of Morgan's sparking, deep brown gaze.

"Sooo," Morgan drawled, his grin widening. "I notice JJ isn't here today."

They descended the stairs and approached the bullpen workstations, where Elle was currently hoisting her bag over her shoulder. Reid smiled minutely as she noticed their appearance, the woman returning the small smile with a dip of her head before she turned to leave the bullpen. By this moment, what Morgan said had sunk in, and Reid frowned at the new information.

"Really? I didn't really notice," he replied, curiosity formulating in his mind at the blonde woman's no-show.

Morgan chuckled. "Maybe you scared her off at the game, man."

This struck a chord. All the insecurities and doubt of Sunday night returned full-force, sending questions buzzing around Reid's overwhelmed brain. He ducked his head, having no reply but to chew on his bottom lip. Morgan's amusement died down into silence, and the older man let go of his minor grip on Reid's shoulder as they stopped at his desk. Reid chanced a look at him, and saw that the other agent was watching him with a mixture of concern and puzzlement.

"Reid, I was just joking, kid," Morgan said, forehead creased.

Reid shook his head, dropping down to retrieve his bag. "No... No, I know you were."

"So-"

"No, it's just..." Reid said, placing himself once more. "I-I-I tried to make it clear to her, y'know, what it was. But I think... I think she thinks I like her, and that the game was me asking her out on a date. So maybe I did, unintentionally, scare her off."

He trailed off into an embarrassed silence here, shying away from Morgan's stare as he fumbled with the contents of his satchel, hastily brushing back his fringe behind his ear.

"Kid..." Morgan said, almost weakly. "I was just playing around."

Reid nodded quickly. "We've established that."

"I'm positive you didn't scare her off," Morgan continued. "I'm sure she's just working on something else at the moment. You know she's the unit's best communications liaison."

Reid shrugged. "True-"

"Point is, don't think too much on it," Morgan said. Reid looked back up at him again, and noticed that in the time Morgan was talking he had grabbed his bag and flung it over his shoulder, stance and posture relaxed. "Plus if it's bothering you that much, why don't you just tell her?"

Reid tightened his lips into a thin grimace, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Because it's no one else's business. Right?"

Morgan remained silent, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and casting his eyes downward. Reid nodded his affirmation to Morgan's lack of response, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the bullpen.

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 _October 18, 6:49 PM_

Morgan sighed as stepped over the threshold of the Davenport residence, running a hand over his scalp. They had done about as much investigating as they were going to do at the crime scene, though other than Cheryl's input and the signs of blood in the dirt and the car, there wasn't anything else to go by other than what they'd here in about an hour's time.

"Morgan. Elle."

Hotch's voice rang through the house from the dining room, and Morgan abruptly sought him out, watching as his superior beckoned them over. Morgan turned to Elle and jerked his head forward, stepping forward at her responding nod. They walked into the kitchen, and Morgan immediately spotted Evan Davenport, sitting tensely in one of his chairs with his hands clasped together as if in prayer. Cheryl was beside him, hands on either one of his shoulders, braced in a comforting grip.

"Mr. Davenport," Hotch said. The distressed man raised himself from his hands, his eyes sagging in despair as Hotch captured his attention. "This is Agent Morgan and Agent Greenaway. They were with your daughter Cheryl at the crime scene."

"... Is there..." Evan spoke softly, his voice a raw croak. He roughly cleared his throat and blinked harshly. "Is there anything you can tell us from..."

"Trish definitely fought as hard as she could for freedom," Elle said, relaying what they already knew from their conversation with Cheryl earlier. "Nail marks on the car seat and disturbances where she fell indicate that she didn't go quietly."

"It's unlikely that she's hurt too badly," Morgan added in. "The victim is typically made sure to be kept alive and in a decent state of health to ensure they get the transaction of money they want. Based on everything we know right now, Trish should be okay."

"You just have to get through tonight," Elle finished.

Evan's eyes fluttered shut, and a shaky sigh vibrated past his lips as he nodded, allowing their words to sink in. The father rested his forehead against his clasped hands once more, and Cheryl removed her hands from his shoulders to occupy the chair beside him.

Satisfied with the information given to the family at the moment, Morgan turned away, walking out of the dining room. The entire house was streaming with FBI agents, local law enforcers, and protective detail. He narrowed his eyes at the bustling scene before him, scanning his surroundings more thoroughly.

With the agents milling about, it was easy enough to spot the young doctor sitting in an open chair, head bent low and finger grazing down the pages of the book in his lap in a fluid, quick movement. Morgan sauntered forward, allowing his heavy footsteps to let Reid know of his approach. Reid glanced up right as Morgan came to a halt, hands in his pockets, brow inclined.

"What are you reading?" Morgan inquired, nudging his shoulder forward as a gesture toward the book.

"Segments on the biology of twins such as Trish and Cheryl Davenport," Reid answered. "Evan Davenport mentioned that Trish had been born with organs on her right side that should have been on her left, and vise versa. As long as it's mostly reversed, it's not particularly life-threatening since every organ has their place and isn't in conflict with surrounding ones. It's a fascinating condition by the name of _situs inversus._ "

Morgan stared. Reid came to a halt, licking his lips unconsciously, casting a momentary glance down at the book in his lap. He suddenly began to bounce his knee in an almost anxious twitch.

"Probably isn't relevant anyway," he muttered, closing the book and placing it on the stand beside him. He turned back to Morgan standing above him, his hazel eyes gleaming with question. "Find anything?"

Morgan scratched his temple. "Yeah. We know that Trish fought her attacker, despite the odds being against her."

"She took self-defense," Reid supplied. "Perhaps she thought she could take whoever it was."

"Even so, it wasn't enough," Morgan said, allowing his arm to fall with a brush against his thigh. "She was still taken. And I noticed something else too, but about her boyfriend. Jordan was shot clear in the face. Any regular perp would have just eliminated him right away, no question. But he specifically waited for Jordan to face him before he fired."

Reid's brows furrowed. "Perhaps his quarrel was also with the boyfriend? Wanted him to see just who was killing him?"

"Nah," Morgan shook his head. "Well, actually, in a way, yes. He definitely was angry at him, enough to shoot him in the face, up close and personal. But the real problem he has has to lie with Evan Davenport."

Reid nodded, though the grimaced scowl remained in place as he fell into thought. Patting his shoulder, Morgan headed back into the fray of cops and feds.

The rest of the time consisted of last-minute preparations to the remaining Davenport family members, instructing them on what to do and what to say and not say, checking and doubling-checking the recording equipment, putting a tracking system in place, and exhausting any more theories the unit had about the unsub based on the information they had.

By the time the clock in the living room read 7:54, Morgan was pumped up on adrenalin, anger, and determination. All of these emotions buzzed inside of him, causing his fingers to tremble in anticipation as the time for the call grew nearer. He was anxious to get more information, to get _something more_ done.

"Keep yourself calm, Derek," Elle said as she suddenly materialized beside him. Her stony smirk was in place as he turned to face her completely.

"I hate waiting," he said simply.

Elle nodded. "Same here. But there's already going to be enough anxiety out there with Mr. Davenport and Cheryl. We don't need to send them vibes that we're pretty anxious too."

"I know that. Remember, I've been here longer than you, youngster," Morgan joked, sending a quick wink in Elle's direction.

The woman rolled her eyes, turning to lean her lower torso against the counter. She jerked her chin forward, staring pointedly into the space between them and the rest of the agents. "You seemed pretty adamant about putting down Cheryl's ability to know something was wrong with Trish."

Morgan scoffed. "I just don't believe in that kinda stuff. I get the whole intuition, gut-feeling type deal. But being able to feel your twin's concerns and anxiety? I'm going to need more than that."

"You think Cheryl's a whack job because she claims she can feel her sister's anxiety?" Elle asked, twisting to her side and resting her hand on the counter.

Morgan shook his head. "I never said whack job."

"Actually there may be a physiological basis for it," Reid's voice came from the doorway.

Morgan closed his eyes briefly, looking over to Elle's bemused expression. "Don't ask."

"Reversed asymmetry monozygotic eggs split late between nine to twelve days. The DNA matches right down to the very last stranded code and there's sporadic documentation of shared physiological pain," Reid cited.

"And _you_ believe it?" Morgan asked, skepticism heavily lacing his words.

"No, I'm just saying it's possible," Reid clarified. "I don't know everything. I mean, despite the fact that you think that I do."

"I never said that," Morgan said defensively. "When have I ever said that?"

"Every day since I met you," Reid snorted.

"This morning at breakfast," Elle added in. Morgan glowered annoyingly at her, his eyes pinching further as she shrugged in nonchalance.

"Yesterday when he beat you at cards," Hotch said, appearing at Morgan's left. "Um, we've got one minute."

The small reminder of where they were and what they were doing sobered them up immediately, and they all turned to follow Hotch out of the kitchen.

But not before Morgan turned and asked, "Anybody ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Mmm hmm," both Elle and Reid replied, halfhearted and implied sarcasm noticeably making itself known.

Morgan chuckled.

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 _October 19, 2005... 7:35 AM_

Weary accomplishment spread throughout Morgan's body, removing the dead weight off of his shoulders as he threw his pen onto an open area of his desk, slipping the last completed file into his outbox. He sighed a heavy groan and slumped into his chair, the muscles in his back relieving the painful knots that had formed there throughout the night. Wincing, eyes closing, his hand trailed to the bandaged skin at his side, fingers cautiously stroking the tender wound underneath.

"Is it bothering you that much?"

Opening an eye, Morgan located Elle sitting at her workstation, still working on her final report. She was momentarily halted, head tilted up as she spoke to Morgan. He grunted in dissent to her question, shaking his head and briefly closing his eyes again.

"Nah," he muttered, arching himself over the plastic edge of his chair, wincing once more at the loosening tension in his upper torso and the light jostle this action caused on his burn.

Elle's lips tightened in displeasure, the look on her face saying she was having none of Morgan's bull. Leaning forward on her desk, she fixed Morgan with a stern gaze.

"Go home," she said firmly. "You look like crap."

Morgan clicked his tongue. "And you look so much better."

"I didn't take a taser hit to the abdomen," she reminded him. Morgan just shrugged, slowly twisting his head side to side, his neck cracking loudly as he did. "Go home. Sleep. Hotch and Gideon gave us all the day off anyway. No more reason to be here."

Shrugging once more and huffing out a quick breath, Morgan grabbed his go-bag from where he had dropped it unceremoniously on the floor, the joints in his knees flaring up stiffly. "You going home soon?"

"Yeah, just as soon as I finish this," Elle said, returning her focus onto the file before her. "No more stalling, Derek. Get out of here before I force you out."

"You're a hardass, you know that?"

"Bye, Derek," she drawled in finality.

Morgan chuckled and tiredly sauntered out of the bullpen, offering a backwards wave to Elle as he went.

The walk to his truck was short, despite his sluggish pace. He rubbed his stinging eyes, dry from being kept open and conscious for so long, and he opened the door, sliding inside and tossing his go-bag in the backseat. As he turned the key in the ignition, Morgan came to a pause.

He slowly raised his hands to the steering wheel, the pads of his fingers stroking across the rim. Occasionally, he drummed them, a sense of restlessness awakening inside his exhausted body. Morgan chewed his inner cheek in conflict. His body was demanding for him to go home, lay down, and _sleep_. Hi s wound was throbbing against the bandage and the cloth of his black shirt. He had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours, pumped up on coffee and adrenalin. And yet...

His left foot bounced against the floor of his truck anxiously, his fingers tapping in quick succession on the steering wheel. He considered his options carefully. He held no desire to stop for another cup of coffee, nor did he feel hungry enough to seek breakfast. He was vibrating with nervous energy, but he definitely was not about to put his body through the exertion of working it off at the gym, especially with his wound holding him back. Turmoil clouded his mind, irritating indecisiveness prodded at the depths of his brain.

And in a quick flash, Morgan harshly slapped the wheel, yanked the gear into drive, and peeled out of the parking lot of the bureau. Joining the light morning traffic, Morgan gently pressed down on the accelerator, anxious. A destination was in mind now, and determination to reach it flared up inside of him.

Maneuvering down the roads, taking familiar turns, Morgan's thoughts turned to whether or not Reid was actually awake. Should Reid be sleeping, Morgan would feel horrible dragging the younger man away from his slumber; Reid's sleeping patterns had been inconsistent from the moment they met, and too often Reid would come into work with dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, armed with either peppermint tea or coffee to get him through the day. Reid probably slept the least out of the entire team, and the guy deserved sleep whenever he could get it.

At this dilemma, Morgan frowned, taking out his cell from his pocket while keeping his eyes on the road. At the next red light, he quickly sent a text, knowing it would risk less chance of waking Reid up than a call would.

 _You up?_

He placed the phone on his thigh, resuming his drive when the light turned green. Less than a minute later, a shrill ring cut through the silence of Morgan's drive, and the older man replaced the phone to his ear as he answered it.

"Morgan."

" _You couldn't just call to ask me that?"_

Morgan chucked. "Well, good morning to you too, kid."

" _Morning, Morgan."_

"I just didn't want to wake you up, man. I thought you'd be asleep."

" _No, I tried to sleep on the jet, but I didn't. And I, uh, I couldn't once I got home. I've been up this whole time."_

Morgan frowned deeply. He initially caught the drowsy coarseness in Reid's voice and had felt momentarily guilty, thinking he had awakened the younger man. But the revelation that Reid had been up this entire time just as he had, never catching any sleep since yesterday, was a little unsettling. Especially since this was more than likely not the first time it's happened.

" _So is something wrong? Is there a case?"_

"No!" Morgan replied, swerving expertly into left-turning lane. "No, no, hell no. I just, um... You-You know what, it's stupid. Just forg-"

" _Morgan, are you okay?"_

The words caught in Morgan's throat at the gentle interruption. His eyes flicked over to the opposite lane of traffic, taking the first opportunity to turn left. Four more blocks and he'd be at Reid's place. Morgan sighed, briefly taking his hand from the steering wheel to run a hand over his scalp.

"Honestly... I don't know. Mind's all over the place, I guess. I was, uh, I was actually thinking of heading to your apartment. It's the reason I texted you in the first place."

There was silence on the other end in response to that. Morgan blinked, slowing his speed down ever so slightly in hesitation.

"Kid?"

" _Come over."_ The tentative voice reappeared, soft in Morgan's ear.

"You sure? Maybe I should let you sleep."

" _Nah, it wouldn't work anyway. Come over."_

Morgan swallowed, relief flooding his insides. "Okay. See you then."

" _Yeah, see you soon."_

Ending the call, Morgan tossed his cell onto the passenger seat and pressed down on the accelerator for the last two blocks. Within seconds he was in the lot of Reid's apartment complex, swiftly pulling in to one of the parking spaces. Shutting off the engine, Morgan climbed out and walked up to the main entrance. He grinned at the tenant holding the door open, muttering a brief word of thanks as he slipped inside.

Having come over a few times before, he quickly made his way up the stairs to the second floor, twisting around the handrail to the door marked _23_. Rubbing the back of his neck, he raised his knuckles to the wooden surface and knocked. Very soon afterward, giving Morgan the vague impression that Reid had been waiting nearby, the younger man opened the door.

Morgan smiled tiredly. "Hey, kid."

"Man, you look exhausted," Reid answered, brow was furrowed in worry.

Morgan rolled his eyes, moving to step inside the apartment. "You're 0 for 2 on greeting etiquette today, Reid."

"Sorry," Reid muttered. "Come on in. Do you-do you want a cup of coffee or something?"

As Morgan trudged inside, the bitter scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted up his nostrils. His stomach turned and he shrugged off a involuntary shiver; his body was still going through the aftereffects of his last dose of caffeine an hour prior, and the idea of consuming more was simply revolting at the moment.

"Nah, I'm fine," Morgan declined. "I had enough at work."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Morgan turned around to face an outwardly confused Reid standing at the entrance, frowning at Morgan with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Work? When were you at work? We have the day off today," Reid inquired.

"Yeah, I know," Morgan nodded. "I stayed behind after you all left. Elle was there too. She was helping me finish up the last of my reports."

"Why didn't you just go home? Those reports would have been there come tomorrow morning, though I have it on good faith that you would have passed them on to me regardless," Reid said.

The last bit startled a soft laugh out of Morgan, and he nodded once more, rubbing his quivering jaw. "Yeah, I..." He trailed off as a huge yawn escaped him. "Yeah, that... That sounds like me."

"Come on," Reid said, walking forward and gesturing toward the living area at the end of the apartment. "Go sit down. You look as if you're going to collapse at any moment."

Unable to find it in him to disagree, Morgan willingly obeyed, practically stumbling into the living room in his overly drowsy state. Reid followed quietly behind him, keeping his distance. Rounding around the back of the couch, Morgan plopped down heavily on the cushion, his stiff legs giving out on him. Reid settled onto the armchair beside him, raising his feet to the seat in a criss-cross position.

"Morgan," Reid said after a moment of neither of them speaking. "Is something... Is there something bothering you? You sounded distracted over the phone."

"Yeah, well..." Morgan replied, leaning back against the seat of the couch, breathing a sigh of pained relief as the cushion wrapped around his aching shoulders and torso, enveloping him in comfort. "Lot on my mind, I suppose."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Yeah, uh..." Morgan broke off with an airy chuckle, feeling a hint of ridiculous for what he was about to confide in Reid. "The safe house earlier. Shyer, he... He attacked me, you know?"

A flicker of surprise flitted across Reid's expression before his face sunk into compassionate understanding. Pursing his lips together, Reid leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Morgan, that wasn't your fault. He caught you off guard. There was no way you could have known it was him. He had us all fooled."

"That's just it though, isn't it?" Morgan cut in before Reid could continue, glancing up. "He _did_ catch me off guard. My defenses were lowered, and I thought that... He was supposed to be one of _us_ , y'know? I thought that I could take a breather, relax, because he was supposed to be _ours_."

"Morgan..."

"It's just... We _trusted_ him." Morgan collapsed further into the couch, heaving out an elongated sigh.

Reid bit his lip. "I know."

"We did, Davenport, Trish and Cheryl... What am I supposed to make of that? How are we supposed to protect folks from the very people that are supposed to _do_ the protecting?" Morgan asked, feeling the repulsion of the case outcome leak into his rant. He stared at Reid, eyes locked directly into his hazel orbs as if challenging the doctor to provide him with an answer.

There was a thick silence following Morgan's words. Reid stared back at him, lower lip tucked between his teeth, his eyes flashing and the gears in his head turning. Morgan blinked, feeling the remainder of the fight draining from his worn body.

"I don't really have a clear answer, Morgan," Reid whispered, looking fiercely apologetic. "I'm not sure anyone does. Shyer was sick. Pretty much everyone we hunt is sick in some shape or form, and unfortunately, even people of the law aren't immune to mental disease."

His voice trailed off into a light crack here, and Morgan's brow twitched but otherwise he showed no reaction to Reid's small break in composure. The younger man must have been more tired than he previously let on. Morgan nodded, rubbing his dry eyes.

"But we did stop him," Reid continued. "We stopped him and we saved Cheryl and recovered Trish. We're not perfect, Morgan. You know? We're not always going to know who the unsub is or capture them in time. But we did today. You did your best, and that's all we can ask."

Morgan reopened his eyes as his friend's speech drew to a close. He chest thrummed with a newfound fondness for the younger man. He allowed Reid's words to sink into his troubled mind and tried to wipe away the bitter thoughts of before.

Reid's somber expression suddenly changed, his eyes beginning to twinkle with affection and his lips pulling up into a kind half-smile. "You should get some sleep, Morgan," he whispered.

Morgan bobbed his head in a pitiful nod. The self-directed anger from earlier gradually slipped away, replaced with a warm, dulled sense of mind, and Morgan found it extremely difficult to keep his eyes open and his brain conscious. His eyelids trembling, his wound pulsing, and sleep darkening the edges of his vision, Morgan smiled sleepily at the blurred figure of Reid as exhaustion finally overwhelmed him, and he knew no more.

.

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Well, that talk was short. I really didn't see Morgan staying awake much longer than that though; he really just wanted to get that off his chest before succumbing to sleep, and who better to help him than Reid! These chapters do seem to have a bit more friendly fluff, but I really want to elaborate on the friendship between Reid and Morgan, and kind of take things in a new perspective with Morgan's obliviousness to Reid's changing feelings. The next chapter will show a little bit of an aftermath, especially since LDSK doesn't have for another two weeks according to the CM Wikia.

How about that first episode of season eleven? Not sure if you guys have all seen it yet, so I won't post spoilers or anything like that! I'm so excited for what the season has in store, and I hope you guys are just as psyched as I am that CM is back on the screen! Hope you guys are enjoying this story so far, and please let me know what you think in a review or PM. It'd be highly appreciated! Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more!


	5. Dilemma - Can't or Won't

A/N: Yayyy, quick update! So here's the aftermath of the previous chapter for you guys. Like I said, LDSK doesn't happen for another two weeks in the Criminal Minds universe according to its Wikia page, so I'm just filling in that minor gap with a little something-something. That being said, hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

 **WARNING #1:** This chapter contains suggestive material, but it won't go to M.

 **WARNING #2:** So you all know ahead of time **, the rating will change to M** for the sixth chapter (that's the next update). Content will include foul language, suggestive material, and sex between two men. If you don't like it, please don't read it, and don't flame me for it. I've warned you.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the plot of Criminal Minds.

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As soon as Morgan's breathing became heavier and steady in his slumber, Reid sank back into his chair with an elongated exhale. He brought a hand to his hair and ran this fingers through his stringy locks, frowning as he made a mental note to take a shower once Morgan wakes.

A few moments passed in utter silence before the older man began to snore lightly, his head lolling to one side before coming to an uncomfortable rest on his right shoulder. Reid grimaced at the painful looking position and stood from his chair, walking quietly to his bedroom. He returned with a dark blanket draped over one arm and a pillow clutched in the other.

He paused beside the couch, reluctant doubt seeping into his intentions. He didn't want to wake Morgan, not now that he sunk into a much needed rest, but he also didn't want Morgan to wake with a stiff neck and tense, sore muscles on top of having the burn to his abdomen.

Mind made up, Reid placed the blanket on one armrest and the pillow at the opposite end of the couch. He hesitantly cupped Morgan's free shoulder, beginning to pull him down. He froze as Morgan gave an audible groan, but the man didn't wake. Feeling more than a little foolish and invasive for essentially tucking his friend in, Reid pulled Morgan into a horizontal position, making sure that Morgan's head was resting comfortably on the pillow and taking care that his wound wouldn't be jostled in his sleep. As soon as Morgan was situated, Reid glanced up towards Morgan's feet laying at the end. He twitched, and then reached out to take off Morgan's shoes as well.

He placed them on the floor at the foot and retrieved the blanket to drape over Morgan's unconscious form. Morgan remained oblivious to the waking world, sighing heavily and shifting further into the comfort of Reid's couch.

Reid couldn't help the smile that graced his face at the sight.

Feeling as though he had invaded the privacy of Morgan's sleep long enough, Reid slipped silently out of the living room, intent on pouring himself another cup of coffee.

His slow trek to the kitchen forced him to take note that other than Morgan's muffled snores, the apartment was eerily silent. He got to the kitchen counter where the half-filled coffee pot was still dripping condensation in its heat, and he quickly refilled his empty mug. The echoing shriek of last night's dream resonated loudly in his mind, and he closed his eyes as he raised the steaming mug to his lips, shakily taking a cautious sip.

Reid had given a light fib to Morgan earlier: he actually did fall asleep on the jet ride home. Just for a brief moment, but it had been enough; as soon as Reid entered the unconscious realm of his mind, he was struck with a heavy weight of terror, paranoia and fear prickling at his skin. His dream was completely dark, no sign of light surrounding him anywhere, yet all he could think to do was run around the pitch-black abyss. He only managed to wake himself up when a shrill cry cut through the dark quiet, flinching back into the waking world with a hitched gasp on the jet.

He didn't put much thought into it for the remainder of the ride, chalking it up to it being an odd coping method to the stress of the case in Connecticut. The rest of the ride passed with him reading a novel he brought along, effectively making him forget all about the weird blip he experienced earlier by the time they landed.

Or at least, that remained true until he got to his apartment and collapsed in his bed.

It happened once more, the horrified scream lingering in his mind even after he woke up only twenty minutes after falling asleep, panting and gulping in gasps of air.

He didn't want to fall asleep after that.

Reid swallowed his last mouthful of coffee, placing the empty mug on the counter. The remnants of his nightmares had more or less been pushed to the back of his mind, festering there for another time. He pressed the heel of his hands into his weary eyes, trying to will the caffeine to enter his system faster.

He dropped his hands from his face, sniffing. Silently, so as not to bother Morgan, he stalked towards the bookshelf against the far wall in the living room, pulling out the first book at random. Casting one last longing glance toward the sleeping man on his couch, he walked out of the living room, his copy of _Dracula_ in his grasp, and disappeared into his room.

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The sun had dipped down further into the horizon, colors of pink and orange and yellow streaking across the dimming blue canvas with the sunset of the approaching evening. And Morgan had yet to awaken.

Reid stepped into his bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind him. Morgan had probably been more exhausted than Reid thought; Morgan was a light sleeper, trained to wake himself up for calls into cases or impending trouble. He was getting close to ten hours of sleep, and he was showing no signs of waking up anytime soon. Reid envied him.

He turned the shower on, thinking it okay to enjoy this leisurely time without worrying about bothering Morgan. Adjusting the temperature, he stripped himself from his clothes and stepped under the steaming, warm spray, closing the glass door behind him. The hot water rained on his chest, running in rapid trickles down his naked skin, the alabaster shade gradually turning pink from the water's heat. Reid sighed in contentment, dipping his head into the cascade, feeling his hair grow heavier and plastering onto his face.

The shower was probably the only place he could think clearly without his thoughts jumbling and conflicting with one another. Perhaps it was the calming, soothing atmosphere of having the water cleanse him. Either way, Reid allowed his thoughts to trail to the man sleeping in his apartment.

When Morgan had called him earlier, his admission ringing in his ears, Reid had come to a mental standstill. He hadn't known what to do. Initially, he had believed that Morgan had wanted to come over for a more physical reason, and that had been the incentive for Reid's reluctance. Having finally permitted himself to come to terms with having feelings with the man he was sleeping with, the man he had agreed to have a strictly physical relationship with, he was not sure about his level of comfort regarding continuing this thing he had with Morgan. It wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to Morgan either for Reid to keep this from him.

But he was scared. God, he was _terrified_. He was at odds about telling Morgan about his feelings, running the huge risk of not only losing the intimacy he had grown to desire, but the close friendship he had formed with the other agent over the years.

Reid tossed his head back, eyes clenched shut as the water hailed on his face.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Jeez!" Reid gasped, nearly jumping out of his skin as he furiously wiped the water from his eyes. He whirled around, blinking out the water that managed to slip through his lashes. "Morgan!"

Morgan's beaming smile stretched wide across his face. "Scare easy?"

Morgan was in the shower with him. Literally inside the damn shower, with the water that managed to surpass Reid's lithe form splashing onto Morgan's still-clothed body. Morgan didn't even take his clothes off, and he was standing inside the confined space of the shower stall with a very naked Reid, water forcing his already tight shirt to cling to the muscles of his arms and abs. Reid came near to hyperventilating.

"I didn't know you were awake, I didn't even hear you come _in_!" Reid exclaimed, subconsciously taking a few minor steps back, elbows locked at his sides and shoulders hunched defensively. Morgan compensated for the growing space between them by stepping forward, joining Reid under the warm stream of rain, the water pattering against the cotton of his shirt.

"I did wake up a few moments ago," Morgan shrugged, leaning in even closer. Reid swallowed thickly, his breaths coming out in short, frantic puffs at Morgan's proximity. "Heard the shower. Figured I'd join you, thank you properly for earlier."

As he spoke, Morgan leaned in the last few inches of space between the two men, his muttered words grazing against the reddening flesh of Reid's neck. Reid gave a shivering gasp, his eyes snapping shut as Morgan pressed hungry kisses to his throat, a hand coming up to knot itself in Reid's dripping hair.

"Mo-Morgan, um," Reid choked, his skin burning where Morgan's lips made contact, his pulse accelerating all the more with every swipe of Morgan's tongue against his tender flesh. "I-I'm trying to take a shh—ngh, a shower and—"

A rumbling laugh trembled from Morgan's chest, close enough for Reid to feel the vibrations. "I can see that. But why don't we make it a little more fun, hmm?"

Whatever else Reid wanted to say was erased from his mind when Morgan raised his head and pressed their lips together, his tongue slipping easily into Reid's slack mouth. Though the feeling was more than familiar, Reid sunk into the kiss as if it were the first time, unable to help moving his mouth in tandem with the older man's. Morgan gave a low growl, the vibrations of it passing through Reid's throat and coaxing a soft moan from the doctor. The warm water ran down each of their faces, meeting them both at their joined lips. Reid's hands reached up to clutch at Morgan's shoulders, fingers digging helplessly into the hard muscle there, his tongue sliding expertly against Morgan's.

 _God_ , but this felt so _good_.

Morgan's free hand was splayed on Reid's upper back, fingers spread out and applying possessing pressure as Morgan yanked him even closer. Reid gave a very quiet yelp at the action, but otherwise kept up his movements, warmth that had little to do with the shower steam enveloping him.

Then Morgan's hand slid down his back, rubbing all the way to Reid's anterior, fingers brushing against Reid's ribs, his stomach…

And then lower.

Reid's eyes snapped open in alarm. Oh, this was a _bad_ idea. A _very_ bad idea. He couldn't do this, he couldn't do this not to himself or to Morgan. Gathering as much resistance and courage as he could, he parted from Morgan with a gasp, his hands going from Morgan's shoulders to his chest.

"Morgan, I, uh, I think—just—"

"What's up?" Morgan said, pausing his movements, yet he stayed pressed against Reid and the predatory gleam in his eyes remained dangerously intact.

"I-I think, I think you should get out."

The mischievous gleam was gone, replaced by a confused glint, and Morgan pulled away to stare into Reid's face more clearly. "Something wrong?"

"N-No! Just—"

"Then what's the problem?" Morgan purred, the smile returning back to his face as he dipped his head, attempting to continue kissing along Reid's jaw.

Reid panicked. His shoves grew stronger, intent on getting Morgan's presence away from him, away from the opportunity to even start a profiling on him. "No! Get out, _please_!"

"Reid, what the hell's the problem?" Morgan asked, now willingly allowing himself to be pushed back, a befuddled look crossing his face.

"Just get out!" Reid half-screeched, shoving Morgan back as much as he could, without making either of them slip on the soaked floor of the stall.

Now completely separated, Morgan stared at him, bewildered.

Then, almost immediately, his eyes widened in apparent horror, and his hands snapped away from Reid, forced to his sides. At Morgan's sudden distress, Reid felt his own anxiety evaporate. He made to move forward, the muscles in his arm tensed to raise his hand up to stop the other man, but Morgan hardly gave him the chance before he slid the glass door open, carefully but quickly stepping out of the stream of water and the shower. He offered no words to Reid, mocha pools still huge and swimming with an unknown emotion as he pulled the door closed behind him, effectively creating a barrier between the two men. A short moment later, the soft thud of the bathroom door meeting its frame echoed inside the room.

Reid took in a quivering breath, and was shocked when a stifled sob escaped him. He gritted his teeth together, forcing the heat in his eyes to not spill over. Heart thudding painfully, breathing ragged, Reid maintained his frozen position. The water became cooler, the shower lost its warmth, but Reid kept staring at the place where Morgan disappeared, his horrified eyes a permanent picture in his mind.

By the time he had finally managed to snap out of his trance, remembering to quickly wash his body and hair before the water became unbearably cold, an unknown yet large amount of time had passed. He dried off and wrapped himself in the robe he had hung on the door, and hastily trotted out of the living room, Morgan's name on his lips—

But Morgan was gone. There was no sign that the older agent had even been there other than the neatly folded blanket on top of his pillow and the light traces of water on his hardwood floor leading to the front door. Morgan's shoes were gone, too.

Reid felt his posture sag with painful disappointment. He had hoped against hope that Morgan would have stayed behind, possibly waiting for an explanation. Not that Reid would have had a good enough reason, but the hoped remained. However, seeing Morgan's reaction to Reid's refusal for their activities in the shower to go any further… He sincerely doubted that sticking behind was an option for the older man.

He sank onto the couch that Morgan had been occupying for the majority of the day, palms seeking the fading warmth. His chest was throbbing with a fierce fire, nearly choking the breath out of him as he took in trembling inhales. He seriously, _seriously_ messed up. Morgan would no doubt be wanting an explanation eventually, and there just wasn't a good one short of telling Morgan the truth. And Reid definitely wanted to hold off on that for as long as humanly possible.

So what was he to do?

The question rang helplessly in his mind and Reid stared out the window opposite him, a heavy weight of dread settling in his head at the lack of answer.

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Morgan climbed into his truck, short exhales puffing past his lips as he slammed the door closed. The cold of the approaching evening struck needles at his damp skin, freezing the wet cloth of his shirt and jeans to his body, and Morgan shivered violently. The burn on his side made itself known once more, pounding in rapid agony and forcing Morgan's palm to cup it in an attempt to calm down the flare. Quickly, he shoved the key into the ignition, peeling out of the parking lot as soon as the engine was on.

Driving away from Reid's apartment, Morgan audibly sighed out a groan, removing his hand from his side and rubbing it down his face. Multiple emotions fought in turmoil inside of him, each with an ache of its own. Bewilderment, anger, fear, horror, anxiety… His trembling progressed into something more ferocious.

Confused tears stung at his eyes, and he furiously wiped them away as he came to a stoplight. He came to a halt at the glowing red light, and his head snapped to the side to glance at the passenger seat, where his phone still resided from where he tossed it yesterday.

He grabbed it, flipped it open, and dialed.

The light had just turned green when the call was answered.

"H-Hey! Hey, it's me, uh…" Morgan started, swallowing roughly as his suddenly high voice cracked with the large amount of pressure pushing against his rapidly beating heart.

He listened carefully as the person on the other end sensed his distress, and voiced their concern.

" _Yeah_ , yeah, I'm fi…" Morgan stopped himself, clenching his jaw. "… Actually, no. I'm not okay. Do you have time to talk?"

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The night wasn't good to Reid.

Wanting to do something other than leaving things the way they were, he had called Morgan's phone. Repeatedly. Nine times in total. After he reached voicemail the last time, Reid had given up, placing his cell down for the night in discouragement. It was obvious now, even if it was blatant beforehand, that Morgan was not willing to talk to him. He could only hope that he would have better luck tomorrow at work, where they will be face-to-face and less of a chance for Morgan to run, but it didn't look to be in Reid's favor.

With a heavy heart, he went to bed, though he may as well have stayed up for the second night in a row for all the good it did him. He had tossed and turned, grabbing one to two hours of restless sleep at a time before he was jolted awake by the echoing screams yet again. He finally opted to just stay awake after he had ripped himself from his nightmares for the last time at around four in the morning.

He was tired. And the apprehension he felt for the upcoming confrontation with Morgan was not helping matters.

Seven o'clock evidently rolled around, much quicker than Reid would have liked, and Reid slowly entered the BAU bullpen, hand famously clasping a cup of coffee. His eyes flickered over to where Morgan's desk was, and was both dismayed and relieved to see that the agent had yet to arrive.

"You're a little slow today, Reid. Get a good night's sleep?"

Reid jumped as Elle placed a hand on his shoulder, the woman coming around to his front with sharp eyes full of mirth and light concern. Reid huffed, shaking his head at her question as the duo continued their walk to their designated stations.

"Nah, I caught up on my reading though," he lied easily, his fingers tightening around his cup as he struggled to keep his thoughts from straying to last night.

Elle seemed to accept his easily enough, patting his shoulder as she headed to her desk, tutting in exasperation.

"Ay Reid," she said, her Hispanic accent slipping into her words. "Don't you have a bedtime?"

Reid smiled. "What's a bedtime?"

Elle snorted, and then her eyes snapped to a space to Reid's left. "Morgan, I think we should think about grounding our boy here from his literature. Poor kid looks like he hasn't seen sunlight in days."

Reid froze, hesitantly turning to face where Elle was staring.

Morgan's response was a grunt of forced laughter before he brushed past Reid, dropping his go-bag beside his desk and draping his jacket over his chair. Morgan then reached over, grabbing a stack of files from his inbox. He had yet to look in Reid's direction.

"You alright there?" Elle questioned.

"Yeah," Morgan said crisply. "Coffee."

That was the only explanation he offered before he strutted away from the bullpen, files in hand, toward the break room. Elle turned toward Reid, brow raised.

"What's up with him?" she asked.

Reid shrugged indifferently, sinking down into his chair. Though internally, safe from Elle's piercing gaze, he crumbled with the dry tears he wouldn't allow his exterior to show.

The rest of the day passed like this. Morgan had stayed away from the bullpen as much as he could, only returning for either more files or passing through to get to the break room. Reid had no idea where he disappeared off to for the rest of the time; Morgan hardly cast a glance his way, much less answered to Reid's inquiries.

The only bright thing that happened today occurred a few hours into their day, when Reid's coffee had run out and the pot in the break room was yet to be brewed. Already having taken two days off work this week, Reid was unwilling to leave his desk for even a moment as he caught up on his paperwork, rubbing his tired eyes and the headache forming in his temple. Morgan came by, grabbing the last of his case reports from his inbox. Reid didn't even bother looking up from his work, knowing Morgan was going to keep himself stubbornly away anyway.

But the older man had walked by his desk, placing a fresh, steaming cup of coffee by Reid's hand, the logo from the shop down the street adorning the sleeve. Morgan must have gone out and retrieved the much needed beverage for Reid. Startled, greatly touched, and filled with renewed hope from this action, Reid looked up to meet Morgan's eyes for the first time that day.

"Thanks," he murmured.

There was a small moment of silence between the two men, as Morgan stared down at him with a carefully blank slate of emotion, Reid staring up at him with an unspoken plea.

There was a tiny instance where Reid thought Morgan's composure faltered, and there was a miniscule hint of _something_ hidden in the depths of those chocolate-brown orbs, but it had disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, and Morgan nodded, turning and walking away from the bullpen once more.

That had been three hours ago, and Reid hadn't seen him since.

Quitting time came, and the bullpen was filled with agents rushing to get their belongings together to go home. Hotch came out of his office and bade him and Elle a good night before he left the room, as did Gideon. Reid caught sight of JJ slipping into her office for a moment before leaving herself. He pressed his lips together; with all the turmoil he felt from Morgan, he had nearly forgotten about JJ. He made a mental note to catch her tomorrow at work for sure.

Elle zipped her bag shut, slinging it over her shoulder as she turned to Reid. "You," she pointed accusingly at him. "Get some sleep tonight, alright?"

Reid smirked, slipping the small stack of incomplete files into his satchel. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me 'ma'am,'" she mock-growled.

This prompted like chuckle from Reid before she smirked at him and walked to the exit. Reid turned back to his bag, packing in a few more case reports next to the ones already inside.

"Kid?"

Reid jumped, dropping a file messily onto his desk. Blushing in heated embarrassment, he stuffed the few papers back into the folder with stiff fingers, moistening his dry, chapped lips as he looked up to see Morgan standing by his desk, hands in his pockets in a sign of hesitation.

"Morgan," Reid said, keeping his eyes on Morgan as he closed his bag.

"We need to talk," Morgan cut in before Reid could say anything more.

Reid closed his mouth in response to the unspoken demand in Morgan's voice, nodding in defeat. Morgan waited patiently for Reid to hoist the satchel's strap over his shoulder and grab his coat, then swiftly turning toward the exit as if fully expecting for Reid to follow him. And, swallowing back his irrational fear, Reid obliged.

As they neared the elevator, Reid nervously grabbed the strap of his bag, picking at the thinning leather. Softly, he spoke up, "Haven't seen much of you today."

Morgan hummed in assent, pushing the button to go down.

Reid bit his lip. This didn't seem good.

The elevator chimed with the arrival of the cart, and the double doors slid open. Morgan walked inside, and Reid, after a moment's debate of just opting for the stairs instead, followed. The tense, awkward atmosphere quickly settled in once the doors shut, the elevator jolting lightly as it descended.

"… I have to tell you something," Morgan suddenly said, his voice a low mutter.

Pulse jumping to his throat, Reid exhaled shakily through his nostrils, nodding in agreement to what was to come as he turned to Morgan. The expression on the older man's face caught him off guard, though; gone was the purposefully clear mask of before, replaced by a lip-biting, creased expression of worry. Almost as if Morgan was scared of Reid's reaction to what he would say. Reid's fear decreased and his curiosity and worry toward his friend soared.

"What is it?" he asked.

They were on the sixth floor now. Morgan looked up from the floor.

"Where I was today…" Morgan started, eyes focused on Reid's shoulder. He trailed off into a pause. Reid tilted his head, brows furrowed.

"Morgan?"

Mocha met hazel as Morgan finally looked into Reid's eyes, a whirlwind of emotions storming to fill the impossibly deep pools. Morgan straightened up, keeping their gaze locked as he spoke.

"I talked to Garcia. I told her everything."

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.

 _ **October 19, 7:34 PM**_

" _You've reached the light at the end of your tunnel, what can I do you for?"_

" _H-Hey! Hey, it's me, uh…"_

" _Morgan..? Hi, is something wrong? Are you okay?"_

" _Yeah, yeah, I'm fi… Actually, no. I'm not okay. Do you have time to talk?"_

" _Of course. Would you like to talk over the phone, or I could come right over!"_

" _I'm already driving, could I just head over to yours? I just…"_

" _Say no more, hon. My door's open. Come right over."_

Fifteen minutes later, Morgan was knocking at her door, and Penelope Garcia answered it immediately, armed with a fresh mug of evening tea and thick worry line in her forehead.

"Morgan, seriously, are you okay?" she asked, ushering him inside.

The man just allowed her to steer him into the apartment space, taking in the sight. For a moment, he allowed the interior of Garcia's apartment overwhelm him: every single aspect of her apartment screamed her personality, all bubbly and colorful and warm and just so like _Garcia_. Morgan could have smiled if it didn't feel like his guts were being ripped out of him.

"Listen," he whispered as she shut the door, turning back to him with a frown. "I need to tell you something. Something extremely, _extremely_ private. It cannot leave this room. _Ever_. To _anyone_."

"But why—"

"Garcia, _please_! Just—!" Morgan swallowed, fists clenching at his sides. "Could you just promise me that? Please?"

She looked frightened, but she nodded. "Y-Yeah, of course."

Morgan froze, then made himself relax at the sight of Garcia's fear, forcing himself to understand that he was scaring her even though the topic of the hard conversation they were about to have was anything _but_ scary. But damn it, if he wasn't _terrified_ of telling her.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, running a hand across the back of his neck. He sighed deeply, forcing a smile to cross his face at his relief of her agreement, trying to convey comfort in the wake of his panic. "Before you start jumping to conclusions, it's not life or death or anything like that, okay? I swear. It's actually kind of ridiculous…"

"I'll be the judge of that," Garcia said, the visual fear ebbing away now that Morgan confirmed nothing truly horrible had happened.

Morgan permitted a sad laugh to rumble from his throat. "It's stupid. I almost didn't want to come over here, to bother you with this. It's just… I have to talk to someone."

Compassion lit up in Garcia's eyes, and the woman walked forward, cupping one of Morgan's elbows with her free hand. "Come on. Let's sit down. Then you can tell me all about it."

The weight that was pulling Morgan down began to rise, the tension in his body lowering, and he turned a genuine smile to the woman on his arm. "Thanks, Baby Girl."

She grinned, leading him to her couch.

It was then and there, right on her couch, that Morgan told Garcia everything. He told her about his sexuality, of knowing that he preferred boys to girls since he was merely a child. Garcia was respectfully silent as he relayed it to her, though she may have let loose a squeak of loud surprise followed by a beaming smile. Morgan couldn't help but grin back at her overly positive response, feeling already so much better about telling someone other than Reid about this.

That's probably why he was so reluctant to move on to the topic of Reid. Here, his smile dropped. Here, Garcia's positive energy began to dim, leaving her staring at Morgan in blunt shock as he spoke. He told her of everything, of his and Reid's initial meeting and the attraction that seemed to pull the two of them together once they discovered that they were both gay. He told her that during Reid's first year, they slept together after a case gone wrong, but didn't tell her about Reid's meltdown at his apartment beforehand. He told her about the next day, when they talked and talked and agreed to have a friends-with-benefits relationship. He told her everything that happened since then until today. And then he told her about today.

"He was showering…" Morgan whispered, feeling drained and full and so unbelievably upset from revisiting the moments of earlier. He pressed on, "I decided to join him, y'know, and nothing really happened other than just… other than just kissing. But he, uh… he suddenly just shoved me away from him and told me to get out. He looked… God, he looked so _scared_. That's, um, that's when I bolted and called you."

Garcia was still for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts. Morgan waited with baited breath, wringing his hands together and nibbling unconsciously on his inner cheek.

After a moment, Garcia's gaze finally cleared, blinking back to focus. "Okay, Morgan… This is a lot to wrap my head around, so you need to bear with me, okay?" she murmured, eyes sparkling with emotion.

Morgan ducked his head. "Y-Yeah, I know. That's part of the reason I didn't wanna bug you, it's just all too much—"

"No, listen to me," Garcia said, reaching out to lay her hand on top of Morgan's. "Morgan, I'm glad that you seem to trust me enough to tell me about something like this, but this is between you and Reid. Why didn't you just talk to him about this?"

The thought caused panic to seize his heart, wrapping thick vines around the throbbing organ as it kick-started, and Morgan stood abruptly, shaking his head. "No, no, I couldn't."

"Why not?!" Garcia whispered harshly, face streaked in exasperated confusion.

"Because I just _couldn't_ , okay!" Morgan said, twisting around to look down at Garcia still sitting on the couch. "And the reason is just… That's private. That's something I haven't even told Reid. And while I do trust him, and I do trust you... my reasons for not talking to Reid about this, however deep it runs, is something you don't _want_ to know. And I don't want you to know if I can help it. Not that, not ever. I just—I'm sorry, I just can't and I—"

"Okay, okay, okay," Garcia soothed, lifting herself slightly out of her seat to grab Morgan's hand as the man's speech quickly became hitched, breaking and cracking at certain words, getting higher in pitch as his panic progressed. "Okay, honey, just sit down. Come on, calm down."

She gently tugged him back down beside her. Morgan allowed her to coax his head onto her shoulder, feeling her arm rest across the span of his upper back, hand curling around his bicep. He took in a calming breath, closing his eyes.

"Alright," Garcia said, her chin lightly nudging against his scalp. "You don't have to tell Reid about your reasons if you don't want to. But just tell him that at least. Tell him that you're not ready to tell him whatever it is yet. It's Reid; he's our sweet, lovable, dorky Reid, and he'll understand."

Morgan nodded, blinking his eyes open once more.

"And Morgan? You're going to have to tell him that you told me. You know that, right?"

Morgan gritted his teeth. "I know."

"Good," she said, patting his arm. "You still seem freaked out, and the friend in me isn't willing to let you go home just yet. How's about you stick around here, we can watch some movies. Do you have a change of clothes? I just noticed that your shirt's kinda damp."

"Yeah," Morgan assured. "Yeah, I—uh, I kinda went in the shower fully clothed."

A startled snort escaped Garcia, and Morgan found himself smiling slightly in the light of her amusement. "Oh, you really are a wild one, Derek Morgan."

Morgan chuckled. "Hardly."

"Alright, go get your clothes," she said, rubbing Morgan's arm comfortingly before removing herself from him to allow him to get up. "I'll order in while you do that. It can be like a slumber party. Girl's night."

Morgan tossed his head back and laughed. "Chill, Baby Girl. I might be gay, but I won't be accompanying you on any shopping trips."

Garcia smirked, a devious glint in her spectacle-covered eyes. "We'll see about that."

.

.

 _ **Present Time**_

There were no words. He could literally recite the dictionary front-to-back, he had an extensive vocabulary at his disposal, but not a single word made its way into his mind as he gaped at Morgan.

His voice cut off speech, his mouth minutely opening and closing as he struggled to form something coherent. Morgan just kept staring at him, accepted resignation for his words reigning deep in his gaze.

They were on the third floor by the time Reid was able to speak.

"Y—" Reid had to look away, his jaw trembling as the shock of Morgan's statement wore off. "You told Garcia?"

Morgan nodded slowly. "I told Garcia."

A thick silence prevailed over the two men, leaving them still, unmoving, even as the elevator rung its arrival to the first floor.

.

.

Ohhh, this may be getting interesting! Poor boys. I feel like Morgan definitely needed to talk to someone, especially if that someone was Garcia. Morgan and Garcia weren't portrayed as close during the first season as they were in later ones, though I like to believe that their friendship was still strong behind the scenes of the earlier episodes. Plus, this interaction between the two could be a stepping stone in creating the beautiful friendship that they share.

I also didn't like the idea of displaying Morgan as basically having no one to talk to about his concerns and fears and about Reid. And even though he told Reid he wouldn't tell anyone of his sexuality here, I feel like that's just something he wouldn't be able to keep from telling Garcia. We all have our perfectly human moments where we become a little selfish (if you can call it that) and tell someone secrets regarding someone else because of the impact it's having on our lives. I just wanted to show that in Morgan. But how will Reid react? We shall see!

I actually ran some ideas I had for this filler chapter through my beta/muse, and she and I both agreed that this direction would serve the story in the long run and benefit the plot the best overall. Hope you guys like it!

Once again, _**the rating will change to M in the next chapter**_. I will warn you of anything material that each chapter may contain. Thanks again, and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	6. 1x06 - LDSK - Fuel to the Fire

A/N: Hey, chapter six is here! A minor question for you guys, and shameless promotion for myself :3 I have a YouTube channel that I recently began to work on and add fan videos to. I have so many ideas for music videos, as well as plot-based videos in correlation with my stories here. Question is, if I attempted to make a trailer-type video for this story, would any of you be interested in watching it? If you can, please let me know! I also might need some song suggestions for it, so drop it a song if you want it featured!

Now back to the author's note. My updates are going to be further apart for this story; I mentioned before, I think, that my nursing classes begin next semester. So while I will be busy, please note that I am _not_ abandoning this story! This story will be my baby until I (hopefully) finish it! So right now, I got a nice, _long_ chapter for you readers who have waited so patiently due to the cliffhanger of the last update. So, without further ado, here's chapter six!

 **WARNING** : Some of the content in this chapter will be _**Rated M**_. Turn back now if that's not what you tend to read about.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the plot of Criminal Minds.

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"So run this by me one more time," Reid said, shoving through the main entrance of the bureau, hearing Morgan's hand slap against the handle in his attempt to catch the door before it closed behind Reid. "You left my apartment, called Garcia, went to Garcia's apartment, where you proceeded to tell her _everything_?"

Morgan had to jog briefly to catch up to Reid's brisk pace. "Yes, but Reid, you have to—"

"And _where_ did you get off thinking that was a good idea?!" Reid exclaimed, coming to a sudden halt as he twisted around to face Morgan, jaw set and face pinched in his impending fury. Morgan nearly stumbled over his feet and words from the rapid stop.

"Okay, you gotta listen to me—"

"I'm having a hard time finding a good reason as to why I should," Reid snapped, one fist coiled around the strap of his satchel, the other curled into a fist at his side.

A muscle in Morgan's jaw jumped, and his eyes wandered away from Reid for a moment before he turned back and muttered, "Come on. We should at least get somewhere more private."

The fact that there were a few agents that were possibly still lingering near the front of the building did little to ease Reid's anger, though he allowed himself to be pulled along by Morgan, heading toward the parking lot where his truck was stationed. Morgan dug out his keys and unlocked the doors, climbing into the driver's seat while Reid reluctantly sat in the passenger seat. Once they were secluded from the rest of the unit's agents, Morgan turned to Reid.

"Reid," Morgan started. "I get that you're pissed—"

"Understatement."

Morgan closed his eyes. "Okay. I get it, alright?"

"No, Morgan, you _don't_ get it," Reid cut in, snapping his head to the side to meet Morgan's gaze once more. "This isn't just your typical 'you've made me angry and you apologize and all is forgiven' scenario, okay? You _betrayed_ my _trust_."

Morgan narrowed his eyes. "I may have told Garcia, but I wasn't the one who went to Gideon first."

Reid recoiled, his anger rapidly morphing into cold shock at the harsh accusation in Morgan's gaze. Gawking, adjusting to the sudden change in direction of the conversation, he muttered, "How… How did you even—"

"What, you don't think I've noticed the different way he watches us?" Morgan said, leaning forward ever so slightly into Reid's space. "Hmm? Especially you. He watches you like a hawk, even more so when you're around me. He watches me like I'm going to fucking turn around and _hurt_ you. I kept an eye on him ever since he returned back to the unit; I know something's different."

Reid grit his teeth, the shock melting away from the heat of the rage once again pooling inside his chest and gut. Automatically going on the defensive, Reid replied, "He's just worried about me, that's all."

"And why would he have anything to be worried about?" Morgan said, his brows lowering further in his disdain. "Do you both trust me so little as to—"

"It wasn't a matter of trust until you went behind my back and told Garcia! _And_ ," Reid cut in firmly, sensing Morgan's outrage as the older man looked to interrupt, "Gideon only knows the bare minimum. He only knows that we're involved, and that's it. And I never went to him! _He_ came to _me_ and told me he knew."

This new information appeared to stop Morgan in his tracks. The anger gained from the argument was still etched in his features, but his eyes swam with abrupt confusion and doubt.

"You…" Morgan said, his face smoothing down as realization that his friend wasn't lying swept across his features. "You never told him?"

Reid shook his head. "But you told Garcia. And from what I'm gathering, you didn't just tell her we were involved. You told her everything."

Morgan slowly turned to face the steering wheel, fingers coiling around the rim as the anger completely disappeared from his posture, his shouldering sinking. Watching him a moment, Reid sighed, the air releasing the remaining fury from the depths of his chest. He ran a hand over his face, facing the front just as Morgan was.

"I don't get it," Reid muttered. "You've told me… You've told me so many times that it was no one else's business. No one was supposed to know about you, about your sexual orientation, or your private life. No one was supposed to know about us... What changed, Morgan?"

Visible shame radiated from the older agent as he clutched the steering wheel in a desperate grip. A type of sorrow seemed to leak into the atmosphere around them, and Morgan sighed. "I don't have a good enough reason for you, Pretty Boy."

Reid cringed at the pet name, now tainted with remorse rather than its usual candidness.

"I just needed to talk to someone," Morgan finished simply.

"Why couldn't you just—"

"No," Morgan shook his head, turning toward Reid. "This wasn't something I could talk to you about. And it's not that I don't trust you, because I do. Implicitly."

Reid was still.

"This just wasn't something that you could help me with, and—and it's complicated," Morgan said, lifting a hand to his face to rub at the worry lines of his forehead.

Gradually, Reid watched as Morgan's eyes clouded over, staring without seeing at the stereo in the dashboard. Concern edged its way into Reid's aching chest, and he slowly reached out to place a ginger touch upon Morgan's shoulder. "Morgan—"

"Look, we all have our secrets, alright?" Morgan snapped, his defeated demeanor immediately taking a turn for the defensive as he flinched away from Reid's hand. "I have mine, and you clearly have yours, judging by what happened yesterday in the shower, so…"

Reid tensed up, shifting his eyes away as he reached the part of the conversation that he had foolishly been hoping to avoid. He took in a breath, closing his eyes. "So we just leave it at that? We all have our secrets?"

"… Kid—"

"You have every right to keep things to yourself, Morgan," Reid whispered, reopening his eyes. "But so do I. And I thought I could count on you, of all people…"

"Kid, I can't even _begin_ to find the words to describe how sorry I am," Morgan said, his voice raising with imploration, his eyes gleaming with the anguish peeking out. It was extremely difficult to see Morgan like that, and Reid looked away, staring out the front window of the truck.

"… I should go," Reid muttered, adjusting his bag so as to better open the door.

"Reid—"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Morgan," Reid said, pushing the door open and slipping out, shutting it closed as he walked with brisk steps toward the exit of the lot, arms wrapping around his torso, hurt and despair pulsing through him with every heavy beat of his heart.

.

.

 _ **October 20, 11:43 AM**_

"How long are you going to keep hiding from Reid?" Garcia quipped, her fingers flying rapidly across the keyboard, the glow of the multiple monitors gleaming in the reflection of her red-rimmed glasses.

"I'm not hiding from him."

Garcia swirled around in a complete one-eighty, brow quirked at the man occupying the couch in her office, a fresh pile of case reports resting on the cushion next to him. "You have a perfectly nice desk out there."

Morgan smirked, glancing up from his work. "Is that your way of kicking me out?"

Garcia offered a grin back. "You know I'd love nothing more than to keep you trapped here in my dungeon for a few hours."

Morgan chuckled, looking back down at the unopened manila folder.

"This isn't the way to go about dealing with this," Garcia said, the humor gone and a seriousness foreign to the usual flamboyant antics of the blonde seeping into her tone. "You need to talk to him. You were _supposed_ to talk to him."

Morgan sighed, slapping the file that was previously in his lap back onto the pile, leaning back into the couch.

"I will. I promise," he said, adding the last bit at the sliver of doubt shining on Garcia's face.

"Morgan, can I just ask one more time why you didn't just stay?" Garcia questioned, leaning forward from the back of her chair. "Why didn't you just stay and talk to him, even if you had to omit what I'm presuming are unpleasant details?"

Morgan pressed his lips together. "You didn't see him, Garcia. Everything was fine, and then he was pushing me away and… The _fear_ that came over his face, I just…" Morgan broke off, shaking his head at the flash of memory in his mind. "This has to be something I did, right? I did _something_ , and he—"

"No, no, no, that can't be it," Garcia interrupted, her eyes wide and frantic.

"Well, it has to be—"

"No, it's not," Garcia said, her firm, maternal tone leaving little room for disagreement. "I refuse to believe you did anything, at least not intentionally. Maybe… Maybe Reid's got hang-ups of his own, y'know? See, this is why you two need to have a talk! Hash things out, figure out the root of the problem, kiss and make-up!"

Garcia turned back to her computer as she spoke, the click of her mouse and keyboard filling the room once more. The last statement both caused Morgan to snort in amusement and at the same time sent an ache through his stomach.

"I don't even know what I'm going to say to him," Morgan muttered.

"Well, you better figure it out fast. Boy Wonder isn't looking so hot," Garcia said, her back still to Morgan.

Morgan's forehead pinched inward, and he pushed himself from the couch, walking over to Garcia. Looking over her shoulder, Morgan huffed as he noticed the security footage overlooking the bullpen pulled up on the screen. "All-seeing eye, huh?"

"I like to keep my darlings close," Garcia supplied, clicking on the camera closest to Reid's desk.

The younger man was working diligently at his station, a stack of completed files in his outbox. Morgan watched as Reid paused, tossing down his pen. The younger man leaned onto his elbows resting on the wooden surface, his fingers going to his temples. Morgan noticed the lack of a mug or cup of coffee anywhere on Reid's desk. Then he remembered that the machine in the break room had malfunctioned not too long ago.

Morgan bit his lip, watching the internal struggle of the man in the camera.

"I need to make a stop," he whispered, placing a grateful hand on Garcia's shoulder before he turned and walked out.

.

.

 _ **Present Time**_

Reid refused to dwell.

As soon as he locked his door, performing his usual routine of hanging his keys up, kicking his shoes off, and laying his satchel by the wall, he went straight for the rarely opened liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of merlot. Usually, he refrained from drinking, finding the resulting muddled state of his normally sharp mind unfavorable. Even when he went out to bars with Morgan, he would try to make sure to stick with one beer, two at the very most; the only time he veered away from that was the night he and Morgan outed themselves to each other.

But if the events of the past few days weren't enough cause to drink, Reid didn't know what was.

He poured himself a copious amount of wine into an oversized glass, bringing both the glass and the bottle with him to the living room and momentarily placing them on the stand beside the armchair. Stopping at the bookshelf covering the back wall, he yanked out textbooks at random of physiology, mathematics, literature, anything he could get his hands on. Satisfied with the heavy weight in his arms, he returned back to the armchair, laying the stack at the floor by his feet. Reid picked up the first book (a guide to understanding quantum physics) and began to read, his other hand reaching out and coiling around the glass.

That was where Reid remained for the remainder of the night, taking generous sips of merlot and keeping his mind off of everything except for the words in front of him. He didn't want to let his thoughts wander to the couch nearby, where Morgan had spent the majority of yesterday (was it really yesterday?) sleeping; he didn't want to think about the shower incident and how horrified Morgan looked after his rejection; he didn't want to look back on earlier this afternoon, on Morgan's betrayal, on the glaring apology shining all across his face.

It was around midnight when he convinced himself to go to bed, his eyes and brain swimming. With sweet relief, he slept without nightmares, his mind blissfully blank in his deep slumber for the first time that week.

But the following morning brought forth the dread missing from the night once more.

Reid walked out of the elevator, heart pounding with nauseating force as his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. He didn't want to face Morgan, and he didn't want to chance upon Garcia with the knowledge that now she _knew_. His legs grew cold with every shaky step he took toward the double entrance of the bullpen. A frantic lump formed in his throat, and he made to reach out and open the door, catching Morgan's figure hunched over his desk inside —

"Reid!"

Reid bit back a gasp at the sudden call of his name, jerking back his hand sharply. Straightening up, he turned around. Hotch's deep brows lowered, but otherwise didn't falter as he approached Reid.

"I understand your gun qualifications are coming up," Hotch said, coming to a stop in front of him.

This sent a shock through Reid's chest and he struggled to retain his composure. With all the time he spent worrying about JJ and now stressing himself sick with everything Morgan brought on, he had _completely_ forgotten about his gun qualifications coming up in about two weeks. Gideon may have been able to pull a few strings to allow him to bypass several qualifications in joining the bureau, but even he couldn't be the exception to every rule. Being a field agent, he did have to meet certain requirements. Knowing how to properly shoot a gun was one of them. And he had forgotten.

"Yes sir," Reid answered meekly.

"Have you put in the practice?"

Reid didn't verbally reply, uneasily shaking his head.

A sympathetic look crossed over Hotch's expression, and the older agent said, "Gideon is taking over a few of my duties for the time being."

Hotch beckoned for Reid to follow him as he spoke, walking around the doctor and pulling open the door to the bullpen. Swallowing, Reid followed, but was able to breathe a little easier once Hotch turned toward the stairs immediately to the left leading up to the landing rather than cutting through the actual bullpen.

Walking side by side, Hotch continued, "If you'd like, I have the time to tutor you down in the shooting range for at least an hour every day until then. We can even start now."

The considerate gesture from his boss was not lost on Reid at all, and he managed a small grin when Hotch turned to look at him.

"I'd appreciate that," Reid replied gratefully, nodding. "Thanks."

A glint of a responding smile pulled at the corners of Hotch's mouth. "Well, I need to stop by Gideon's office for a moment, and then we'll head down. You can put your stuff at your desk in the meantime."

Reid nodded again, albeit a little stiffly this time. "Sure, Hotch."

Once Hotch disappeared into Gideon's office, Reid descended the stairs, his prior dread returning tenfold. Especially when he noticed that Elle was missing and Morgan was the only agent around for a span of a few desks, looking up from his desk and watching Reid's hesitant approach. Taking in a calming breath, Reid tightened his hold on his bag and walked closer.

"Hotch need anything?" Morgan asked when Reid was near enough.

Reid lowered his head, both in assent and avoidance. "Tutoring. For my gun qualifications."

"… Listen, Reid—"

"Stop."

Reid's voice was nothing more than a low mutter, but it was able to cut through whatever Morgan wanted to say. And Reid already knew what Morgan wanted to say; he just didn't want to hear it.

"Just stop, okay?" Reid murmured. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Kid—"

"Morgan, you told Garcia," Reid said, gaze flicking up to meet Morgan's. Slightly taken aback, he noticed Morgan regarding Reid with a crumpled look in his eyes, brown orbs gently gleaming in a fiery regret. "You told her after making an assumption. Now you've apologized for said assumption—"

"You haven't accepted it," Morgan pointed out.

Reid smiled sadly. "Would _you_ have? So easily?"

Morgan barely had a chance to open his mouth to reply before they were interrupted by Hotch's voice calling Reid from the landing. Their superior leaned slightly on the railing, his face creased and his brows furrowed at the obvious tension between the two men at the ground level, but said nothing other than, "Reid? You ready?"

Reid acknowledged Hotch with a nod and lifted the strap of his bag over his head, rapidly fixing his wayward hair as he settled his satchel on the ground. Briefly, he glanced up and reconnected his gaze with Morgan's. Pleading, deep brown eyes latched on to resigned hazel ones, the silence between the two speaking volumes. Then Reid wrenched his gaze away, walking toward the exit, mindful of the stare penetrating into his back.

.

.

A week passed, then almost two, and the tension between Morgan and Reid had yet to be resolved. And, as they knew it would, it caused their coworkers to show less than discreet concern toward their uncharacteristic behaviors.

During the mornings, as Reid exited the elevator and walked toward the bullpen, he would see Elle hovering near Morgan's desk, her face pinched in either concern, anger, or exasperation with every passing day. Whenever Reid came into her line of sight, Elle would back off immediately, heading back to her own desk across the aisle and leaving behind an either angry or indifferent Morgan.

Reid didn't need an IQ of 187 to know what they were talking about.

Gideon didn't mention anything to Reid. He never voiced any worry or offered any advice; rather, he was just a strong presence always standing somewhere nearby, there in case Reid came to him first. Reid was thankful for the distance and for the unspoken support Gideon was giving him, but chose not to approach his mentor, hoping to find some form of resolution on his own first.

Reid hardly saw Garcia. This was mainly in terms of the fact that Reid hadn't ventured down to her dwelling ever since Morgan confessed to him. Reid liked Garcia very much, but he didn't think he could stand seeing her kind, open expression holding sympathy or sadness or whatever Garcia may be feeling at the moment in regards to their situation. He steered clear of her, knowing that if anything, Morgan would be filling her in on what was occurring between them.

Reid could have kicked himself as he found himself avoiding JJ as well. He desperately needed to talk to her following the events of the Redskins game, but she was hardly in her office anyway and rarely came down to the bullpen except to head toward either Gideon or Hotch's offices. Reid knew he was stalling in bringing up that evidently awkward conversation himself, but what with the new dilemma involving Morgan, he didn't know if he could talk to the beautiful blonde without revealing more than he wanted to, considering the emotional toll this was taking on him. Once again, he tucked the task of talking to JJ away toward the back of his mind, ready for later use.

Hotch was the only one to vocally express any concern to him, and it was during the last tutoring session down in the shooting range.

"On SWAT, we broke the shots down into three steps," Hotch said, looking over Reid's shoulder at the target. "One – front sight. Focus on the front sight, not on the target. After the shot, you come right back to the target. Now what did you do wrong?"

"I didn't follow through," Reid replied heavily.

"Right," Hotch assented. "You came off the target to see where you hit."

"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning," Reid said, hopelessness simmering in the confines of his stomach with nauseating twists. "I barely passed my last one."

"Front sight, trigger press, follow through," Hotch repeated. "You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time."

Reid nodded, holding the gun up using the proper form Hotch had taught him.

 _Front sight. Trigger press. Follow—_

He fired. And then he sighed in defeat.

"Did Elle teach you that?" Hotch asked, amusement leaking into his voice as they both stared at the bullet hole in the crotch area of the target.

"They're going to take away my gun," Reid muttered, giving in to what by now was a solid fact.

"A profiler is not required to carry."

"Yeah, and yet you carry two of them," Reid pointed out, stepping back from his stance to gesture toward Hotch's leg.

In response, Hotch crouched down and took his firearm from his ankle holster. Without another word he went into his firing stance, aimed, and fired three shots in quick succession, each hitting the center target without fail. Reid bit his lip. How did he make that look so _easy_?

"When I joined the BAU," Hotch said, bending down to once again holster his weapon, then standing upright to face Reid. "Gideon said to me, 'You don't have to carry a gun to kill someone.'"

"… I don't get it."

"You will." Hotch nodded toward the target. "Again."

They fell into silence, save for the shots coming from Reid's gun and the instructions coming from Hotch. Reid's lack of progress was evident, and he lost all remaining hope he might have had about the possibility of keeping his gun. Once again, he aimed, fired, and missed. Reid was set to try again when Hotch spoke.

"Reid, are things going alright between you and Morgan?"

Caught off guard, Reid thanked his lucky stars that he didn't accidentally shoot _Hotch_ from the shock he experienced following the question.

"Everything's fine," he answered in a clipped tone, raising the gun once more. He ran the steps quickly in his head once more and pulled the trigger. He winced as the bullet made impact with the white sheet about a foot from the center.

"Front sight, remember front sight. And you're lying. There's clearly something going on."

"I thought we made it a rule that we weren't to profile each other," Reid said, raising the weapon once more.

"This isn't profiling, Reid," Hotch amended. "This is just concern. You two have been off for some time now. The others are worried too."

"Oh yeah, then why haven't they spoken up?" Reid said, his hold on the gun firm, but his aim quivering.

"Elle has, but with Morgan."

"And what has Morgan said?"

"Only that even if something _was_ wrong, then it was none of our business, or that everything was fine," Hotch answered, though his tone remained incredibly skeptical.

"… Then everything's fine," Reid said, glancing over at Hotch and trying to make it clear as respect would allow that this conversation was over.

Hotch's brow lowered, and his striking dark eyes stared in skepticism, light anger, and worry. But he backed off with a stiff nod, obviously unconvinced but willing to accept he wasn't going to get anywhere with Reid.

"Okay," Hotch said. He took a quick glance at his watch. "Hour's up. I gotta head back. Stay and practice if you want. Good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks," Reid muttered, lowering his arms from the firing stance.

"And Reid?" Hotch said, turning to leave. "Door's always open, in case you decide to change your mind."

Reid swallowed. "Yeah. 'Course. Thanks."

Hotch thinned his lips, but said nothing more as he walked out.

The passing weeks were sluggish agony for Reid. Morgan wasn't speaking to him, for once respectfully keeping his distance and giving Reid the space he wanted. At the beginning, Morgan had attempted to capture him alone multiple times, whether it was in the break room or in the elevator only containing the two of them or in the bathroom, but Reid had just as quickly dismissed him. Throughout the duration of the week, Morgan just seemed to give up, sinking into accepting silence.

Reid was hurt. So incredibly, ferociously hurt. He couldn't help but mourn the fact that in times like this, it would be Morgan he'd be turning to, desiring only his words and advice and voice. And now he couldn't even do that. It got to the point where he found himself pausing outside of Gideon's office on multiple occasions nearing his qualifications, contemplating whether or not he should go inside and spill everything. But then Gideon's words rang in his mind—

 _I don't want to see you getting hurt, Spencer._

– and he'd remove his hovering hand from the doorknob, walking away before he had a chance to follow through. Because how was he supposed to tell Gideon that he had been right?

.

.

"Reid failed his qualification."

Morgan's attention shifted from the book in his hands to Elle's revelation. He internally frowned; despite not being on speaking terms, he knew Reid was worried about the test this morning. He cringed as guilty, intrusive thoughts entered his mind that he had known there was a chance Reid wouldn't pass. He had barely scraped by on the last qualification, when it was Morgan that was helping him out. And though Hotch was an excellent instructor, Reid wasn't in the best frame of mind lately anyway.

"He can retest in two weeks," Gideon said, walking around the bullpen desk towards the stairs.

"Yeah, but he's going to be embarrassed by it, so _let's not mention it_ ," Elle said, turning around to face Morgan with a pointed glare and a strong emphasis to her words. Morgan raised his brows, pivoting his chair around to fully face Elle's accusing stare.

"Yeah," Gideon agreed. "Let's not."

Lifting a hand from his book in a form of mock-surrender, Morgan muttered in exasperation, "Not a word."

But then Reid appeared, walking with his hands deep inside his pockets and a discouraged slouch lowering his thin frame, and that was when Morgan made the decision to sink back into a favorite pastime of his: riling up the unsuspecting doctor.

Slyly pulling out what he needed from his drawer, he stood, sauntering over to where Reid was now sitting at his desk, organizing his bag's contents. Ignoring the warning glare from Elle, Morgan continued.

"Hey," Morgan whispered, ducking his occupied hand behind his back and leaning the other on Reid's desk. He witnessed Reid's tense posture return, and the man reluctantly glanced up to meet Morgan's gaze. Morgan tried not to pay much attention to how weird and scary it felt to talk to Reid after more than a week of silence, regardless of his intentions, focusing instead on what he was doing. "We're all here for you."

Reid scoffed quietly, looking back down.

"I'm serious," Morgan murmured.

Reid's shoulders sagged and he looked up once more, the guarded look never once leaving his expression.

"And if you ever need anything…"

Quickly, he whipped his hidden arm out from behind his back, placing the blue lanyard of the whistle around Reid's neck before the startled younger man had time to react. Smirking, an air of glee surrounding him, Morgan ducked down and grabbed the silver whistle, bringing up to his lips. Reid flinched at the sharp tweet that emitted from Morgan's short blow.

"Just blow on that," Morgan finished, letting go of the whistle and standing back up, walking back to his desk with a hearty chuckle. He was still laughing as he drank from his coffee mug, shrugging in response to the disgusted glower coming from Elle.

Reid by then had finally snapped out of his angry trance, practically ripping the lanyard back over his head with a huff, tossing it on his desk and fixing his hair that became tousled as a result. Still, Morgan shrugged and laughed. Anger was better than nothing, and he just wanted the cold-shoulder treatment to be _over_ already.

"Okay, Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

Morgan was still watching Reid, and witnessed the young man's muscles suddenly lock in place as JJ's voice resonated in the bullpen. The humor evaporated within Morgan, and he frowned. The Redskins game had been two weeks ago. Reid had told Morgan about his issue involving the communications liaison the day he returned to work. Hadn't it been resolved by now?

"Three victims shot at distance," JJ continued, handing a file folder to Reid, and Morgan's frowned deepened at the obvious stiffness of their movements as Reid took the report from her.

Evidently, they hadn't.

JJ then turned to Morgan, walking over shortly to hand him his own copy. "It's the third such shooting in two weeks."

Morgan bit the inside of his cheek, pocketing his observations for hopefully a sooner rather than later time to ask Reid about.

"A sniper?" Elle asked.

"We don't use that word," Morgan amended, lowering his eyes from JJ to the documents in his hands, flipping through the case file as he spoke, redirecting his attention to the more pressing matter.

"Why not?"

"The public perception is that the FBI doesn't have an exemplary record with snipers," JJ answered.

"Besides," Hotch took over. "A sniper is a professional marksman. These guys aren't snipers."

"What do we call 'em then?" Elle inquired.

"LDSK," Hotch said.

"Long Distance Serial Killers," Reid clarified before Elle could ask.

The Hispanic woman raised her thin brow, shutting the file in her hands. "How many of these guys have we caught using a profile?"

"None," Gideon answered.

The ominous, unspoken challenge settled into the atmosphere, rendering the team momentarily quiet as they took in the seriousness of their case. Puffing his cheeks, Morgan huffed out an elongated sigh, letting the paper he was holding slide through his fingers and back into the file.

.

.

Morgan came to realize quickly enough that his minor stunt with the whistle did little to rouse Reid from his potentially sour mood toward the older agent. Already having been temporarily suspended from his use of weapon, Reid relied solely on his intelligence as they arrived in Des Plaines. The facts and statistics came with a firm bite of fresh confidence, though his entire demeanor was tainted with uncertainty away from local officers. That, along with Morgan's whistle joke and his constant, lingering presence, made it perfectly clear to Morgan from the start that Reid was extremely unhappy with the older man, though he maintained his level of professionalism in the eyes of Hotch and Detective Calvin.

They were in front of the bulletin board containing all the crime scene and victim photos, discussing the pieces of the profile they had uncovered so far, when Morgan's phone began to ring.

"Give me a second," Morgan excused himself. Stepping away from the bulletin board, he ventured a close distance away before answering the call. "Yeah. Morgan."

" _Isn't this spooky?"_

"Isn't what spooky?" Morgan replied, hiding the grin in his voice when Garcia's voice flowed through from the other line.

" _That right now you were thinking about me, and out of the blue, your phone rings? And it's me. Huh? How's that for a spiritual connection?"_

Holding back his laughter, Morgan murmured, "Umm, do I know you?"

" _Why do you hurt me?"_

Morgan allowed a small chuckle to slip through before he got to the purpose of the call. "Garcia, please tell me you've nailed down a geographic profile on our guy."

" _Okay, I'll give you the good news first, which is not that good, but it's better than the bad."_

"Alright, hit me with it."

" _Ohh, kinky."_

Morgan huffed out another laugh.

" _Well, good slash bad news is that Landman was able to recover the bullet that was shot into one of the victims from the park. It was a .223 that came from an M-4 variant of the M-16."_

Morgan frowned. "Okay. What's the bad news?"

" _Bad news is I can't localize any sort of geographic profile. The shootings are happening at different points, so it would be hard for me to get that to you without—"_

"More shootings," Morgan finished, biting his lip.

"… _Yeah."_

Morgan sighed. "Alright. Thanks, Baby Girl."

" _Oh! Before you go… How are things? Seriously?"_

Morgan sighed again, all traces of their former playful banter gone at the implication of Reid in the turn of their conversation. He stretched his head back, minutely closing his eyes. "Not good, Garcia."

" _Still not talking yet?"_

"No," Morgan said, shifting to quickly glance over his shoulder to where Reid was engaged in conversation with Hotch and Detective Calvin. "Not yet. But hopefully soon. Listen, Garcia, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"

At Garcia's reluctant goodbye, Morgan hung up the phone, turning back to the group by the bulletin board. He trekked over to them, catching the last bits of conversation between Hotch and Calvin.

"That's textbook military practice."

"True."

"But maybe he was in the army."

At Calvin's idea, Morgan spoke up, announcing his reintroduction into the group. "He was probably a Marine, ranger, or other specialized unit. Garcia says the bullet was a .223 fired from an M-4 variant of the M-16."

"All the services use an M-4," Reid added on.

"It's got a shorter barrel than the M-16," Morgan continued. "It's less accurate, and it's a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances. This level of skill indicates specialized training."

"If he has specialized training, he knows _exactly_ what he's doing," Reid said.

Morgan nodded.

"He intended to wound them," Hotch said.

"The underkill is deliberate," Morgan elaborated.

"Everything he does is deliberate," Hotch replied, his tone of voice suddenly growing more exasperated with the unseen shooter. "But it's as if he needs to show us how smart he is."

Morgan shook his head, looking at the crime scene photos before them. "Since the crime scenes aren't centered around a single location, Garcia can't get a geographic profile without additional data."

"What kind of data?" Calvin asked.

"More crime scenes," Morgan answered.

"She's gonna get them," Hotch cut in. "This guy's got something to prove."

.

.

There were three more victims shot in front of local restaurant that day. Same gut shot, same non-fatal wounds, same profile. Tensions were already running high, especially with the incomplete profile they had to deliver in front of the police force. Scotty McCarthy's sarcastic exclamation was fortunately the worst of it, but the unit quickly came to realize the unspoken distance that the local cops put in between them and the bureau. The lack of trust was now evident, at least from Scotty and perhaps a few others, but it did nothing to alleviate the stress of the case.

It became ten times worse when the reenactment of the shootings at Franklin Park brought forth the knowledge that Scotty McCarthy had actually gone and revealed the sensitive profile out to the media. Even more so when they apprehended McCarthy for all of fifteen seconds before he was suddenly shot clean through the skull, dead before he hit the ground and rapidly alerting everyone that the unsub was among them.

The silver lining that emerged from the mess was that Garcia was able to pinpoint a geographic profile.

The hospitals that the shootings were gravitated towards provided them with new information; along with being a veteran with specialized training, there was a definite high probability that he was also someone in the medical field, intentionally wounding his victims so as to save them later. Someone who wanted to be commended for their victories, regardless of how they got them.

Someone like Doctor Landman, the surgeon who had removed the intact bullet from one of their previous victims.

"You're considering _me_ a suspect?" Landman questioned, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Elle, JJ, and Reid were all peering through the window from the outside of the dark room, allowing Gideon to be the only one inside with the surgeon. The senior agent's demeanor remained sure, unfazed by the arrogance radiating from the now heated doctor.

"Yes," Gideon replied easily.

Landman scoffed. "Well, that's disconcerting. I heard what happened to your _last_ suspect."

"Do you wanna know why?" Gideon asked.

"Collective incompetence?" Landman sneered.

Gideon didn't let that faze him either, continuing on as if Landman hadn't spoken. "You ever heard of 'Hero Homicide?'"

"Would I be less suspicious if I let my patients _die_?" Landman asked.

Gideon nodded. "Absolutely."

Outside, Hotch walked up behind the small group hovering at the window. Noting his arrival, Reid stepped to the side a bit to allow Hotch to further join in. Elle turned around to face the unit chief.

"Hey. You get anything from his car?" she asked.

"It's a red, 2-seat Maserati," Hotch answered.

JJ chuckled humorlessly. "Heh. Of course."

"If he's the shooter, he has another vehicle," Hotch reasoned.

Reid furrowed his brow, redirecting his attention to the conversation happening within the room.

"This type of killer seeks the power over life and death and covets the power of God," Gideon said, nonchalantly sticking his hands in his pockets as he sauntered around the room. "You know anyone like that?"

"I want you to understand something," Landman cut in, the condescending sneer making way for anger. "When my patient are in the operating room, they _need_ God, and that's exactly what I give them. When someone's holding your beating heart in their hands, who do you want holding it? _Me_ , or _God_?"

"Where were you today at 3 o'clock?" Gideon asked, redirecting the conversation back on track.

"I was in my office," Landman bit out.

"Alone?"

The sneer returned, maliciously crossing over Landman's face as he fully turned to face Gideon at the front, taking a few steps forward. "I was in my office with Dr. Hannah Pate." Landman turned his attention over to the group by the window. "I'm not the only one who thinks I'm a _God_!"

Reid bit his tongue at the disgusting amount of arrogance seeping from Landman's voice. A quick glance over to Elle and JJ found equal amounts of disgust on the women's faces, Elle's lips quivering into a premature snarl.

"She's in the ER right now," Landman continued, folding his arms confidently over his chest. "Go on! Ask her."

"Reid, let's take a walk down to the ER," Hotch announced, turning away. Reid followed his unit chief without question. As they walked through the halls, passing by patients' rooms and service desks on the way to the emergency room, Hotch said, "My guess is Dr. Pate is going to corroborate Landman's alibi."

"You don't think Landman's the shooter?" Reid asked.

"Richard Angelo wanted to be a hero because in his everyday life, he was a nobody," Hotch explained. "Landman's a surgeon; he has power and recognition."

"Yeah, but you know, surgeons are a different breed," Reid opposed. "They're the stars in their field, and Landman is definitely not one of them."

They reached the ER a moment later, and quickly they approached the nurse's station in the midst of the fray. "Excuse me," Hotch called out to the male nurse behind the counter. When the nurse turned around, Hotch discreetly pulled out his credentials. "I'd like to speak with Dr. Pate."

The nurse's brows shot up a little at the presentation of the FBI badge, but nodded his assent. "Yes, sir. I'll go find her for you."

Once the nurse disappeared into the crowd, Hotch turned back to Reid. "The motivations for Hero's Homicide are excitement, power, and respect. And even though Landman's not a star, he still gets respect. Racing against the clock to save someone's life is exciting."

"Maybe it's not exciting enough," Reid offered, still not completely convinced. "That's—That's why he shoots three people at a time."

"But he can only operate on _one_ at a time," Hotch replied. "It wouldn't be any _more_ exciting."

Reid frowned, seeing the completely logical end to Hotch's proposal. So Landman was not the shooter after all, meaning that they were back to square one.

"At least…" Hotch muttered. Reid looked back up; his chief's eyes were scanning the emergency room, his expression comprehensive of a new idea forming in his mind. "Not for Landman, and not in the OR."

Reid's heart surged in acceleration as he caught on, the pieces of the puzzle sinking into place. "The policemen and ER personnel are on the exact same 24-hour shift schedule."

"The unsub wasn't shooting at shift change because there are fewer cops on the street," Hotch said, glancing around more discreetly at their whispered revelation. "He works the second shift in the emergency room."

"Contact with the victims," Reid added.

Lips pressed together in a firm line, Hotch pulled out his phone, beginning to dial Gideon.

"Sir, you can't use the cell phone in the hospital."

At the female doctor's reprimand, Hotch flipped his phone shut and paused for a moment. Then he stalked forward, round the counter on his way to the doctor. Reid followed him abruptly, wringing his fingers together in a nervous tangle.

"Excuse me for a minute," Hotch whispered as soon as he got close enough.

The doctor looked up, a light, confused scowl marring her face as Hotch, all too aware of the fact that the unsub could be in the ER at that instant, once again pulled out his credentials and carefully displayed it to her against his chest and away from the crowd's line of sight.

"We're FBI agents, and we believe that one of your staff members might be the sniper," Hotch muttered. "Now, the man we're looking for works the second shift, and he would have transferred from Arlington in the past two weeks."

The doctor shook her head. "We haven't hired any new personnel in two months."

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah," the doctor replied shortly as she impatiently moved to get back to work. "Look, I've got patients who need me—"

Before she could turn away, Hotch placed a firm, though not harsh, grip on her arm, grounding her. "He's in his thirties," he continued hastily, sensing the doctor's cooperation slipping away. "He's vain, rude, arrogant. He works out. He shows up to work late. He blames others for his mistakes, doesn't take responsibility for his behavior. All of his coworkers detest him."

Reid watched closely as the doctor's face morphed gradually from impatient indulgence to horrified realization. He knew the exact moment Hotch's description sunk into the woman's brain, uncovering the name they needed.

"Oh my God," she breathed out. "It's Philip Dowd. He's—He picks up shifts at Arlington."

"Is he here today?" Hotch muttered.

"Oh my God," the doctor whispered, her body nearly twitching as she looked around frantically. Reid stepped forward into her space, but Hotch grabbed her arms first, once again grounding her to the present.

"Okay," Hotch cut in, ensuring that the doctor wouldn't draw any attention, specifically from the one they were looking for. "Okay, your patients need you _calm_. Now, tell me… Is Dowd working today?"

The doctor closed her eyes briefly, took in a deep breath, and nodded.

"Do you see him?"

The doctor once again looked around, though much more slowly and calmly than before, before she turned back to Hotch and shook her head.

"Go tell Gideon," Hotch said, this time at Reid.

By now eager to deliver the news they received, Reid almost forgot to keep his steps natural and slow as he made to head out of the ER until Hotch called him out. Blushing at his minor slip, Reid cleared his throat and slowed down his pace. He dug his hands into his pockets to hide the trembling.

He could hear the fast footsteps before he saw the nurse from before fly around the corner, his hand concealing something big within his white coat. Reid froze, his heart skipping a dreadful beat as he struggled with himself to call out a warning to Hotch that this was him, _this was Dowd_ , before Dowd pulled out the M4 assault rifle and sent the butt of the weapon crashing into Reid's temple.

.

.

"Garcia dug up quite the history on Philip Dowd," Morgan said, raising the file folder he brought back from the bureau. "He joined the army at eighteen, went to ranger school. Did six years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it and joined the Arlington PD."

"You were right, he was a cop," JJ said.

"For nine months," Elle elaborated. "When they found out he lied about the discharge, they kicked him out. Soon thereafter, Dowd got his nursing license. He's been bouncing from hospital to hospital ever since."

Morgan listened with only half a mind, his eyes traveling over to the barricaded entrance of the ER. His heart hadn't stopped lurching in frantic heartbeats ever since he received the news of Dowd trapping Hotch, Reid, and several patients and doctors inside the ER. He was worried, and the prominent concern was that Reid was unarmed. All the younger man had was, due to Morgan's sneaky actions and the inability to let go of the joke, the stupid silver whistle in his pocket.

It had only been a joke. Morgan felt bit his lip, a stirring of self-loathing brewing inside his stomach.

He watched as Gideon stepped forward to speak to the SWAT leader they had been consulting with the entire case, hearing the words of imploring coming from the senior agent to not let anyone in before Hotch had a chance to end things peacefully. Morgan had faith in the unit chief; Hotch was definitely someone he would willfully trust his own life with, and people like that didn't come often. But even with that, he still felt overwhelming fear.

Especially when the borrowed time granted to them by SWAT ran out, and all they could do was watch helplessly as the agents rushed forward to the ER entrance, readying themselves to burst in and stop Dowd. But Morgan knew that it wouldn't just end with them taking Dowd out; Dowd was going to take out as many people as he could before they filled him with lead, possibly killing doctors and patients, possibly killing Hotch. Possibly killing Reid.

That thought still in mind, Morgan's heart come to a stuttering halt as a single gunshot rang out from the direction of the ER. A gasp of horror was right on the edge of his throat, waiting to be released—

"We go now!" the SWAT agent shouted.

"Federal agent! Federal agent! Hold your fire!"

Morgan's heart leapt at the distinct sound of Hotch's voice crying out from behind the barred ER entrance. A huff of breath he had been holding sharply blew past his lips when the shadow of his unit chief glided past the windows before the door opened to reveal Hotch, hands constricted with a zip tie.

"It's all clear," Hotch announced, turning back to reenter the ER, a swarm of SWAT agents following behind him. Immediately, Morgan moved forward to follow, aware of the rest of the team's presence beside him as they stalked toward the ER with urgent steps.

Gideon walked in first, Morgan right behind him. Morgan first noticed that the SWAT agents were mainly gathered around the walls of the vicinity, checking over the patients and doctors still crouching with remnants of fear before they sent them out, instructing them to bring EMTs to the front parking lot for those patients still in need of medical assistance. A gurney rolled past him, and Morgan caught sight of an unconscious security guard resting on it before a few nurses guided it outside.

Morgan found Gideon by Hotch. The older man was clutching the zip tie in his hand, and Hotch was absentmindedly rubbing his wrist as he stared down at the corpse of Philip Dowd before him, speaking to Gideon in a low murmur. Morgan came to a sluggish halt at the head of Dowd's corpse. He raised his brows at the single, bleeding bullet hole right in the middle of Dowd's forehead.

"Nice shot, man," Morgan praised, glancing up to meet Hotch's gaze.

Surprisingly, Hotch shook his head in a bemused, disbelieving manner and said, "It wasn't me. It was Reid."

Morgan's jaw nearly fell open. "Get out of here."

But Hotch shook his head once more. "Reid grabbed my gun from my ankle holster, and when Dowd was about to shoot me, Reid got him instead." Hotch looked away from Morgan momentarily, gesturing toward a spot to his right. "Can you take him outside? I think… I think I might have overdone it."

Befuddled as to what Hotch meant, Morgan just nodded and turned to the spot Hotch had pointedly looked at. A team of SWAT passed through his line of vision, but as they walked away he caught sight of Reid, sitting up against the wall of the nurses' station, eyes closed, hand clutching his side. Bruises marred his face, mainly his jaw line, and a rather nasty looking welt was forming on his left temple.

What the hell?

Morgan quickly reached him, dropping into a crouch in front of the younger man.

"Kid," Morgan said, placing a tender hand on Reid's leg. Reid's eyes snapped open at the announcement of Morgan's presence, and Morgan smiled softly, temporarily relieved at the rapid answer. "You alright?"

Reid grimaced as he attempted to smile back, his lower lip twitching in protest. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just might need a little help getting up, but I can walk."

"Alright, c'mon," Morgan muttered, leaning forward to drape one of Reid's arms around his shoulders. Reid grunted as Morgan secured an arm around Reid's torso, but made no other indication of pain as Morgan hoisted him into an upright position.

"You alright?" Morgan repeated, reluctant to let Reid go lest he was in further pain.

Reid nodded, pulling his arm away from Morgan's shoulders, and in turn slipping out of Morgan's grip. Reid walked easily enough toward the exit, but Morgan lingered close behind just in case.

"What happened, Reid?" Morgan inquired, gesturing toward Reid's face.

The younger man rubbed at his bruised jaw, wincing slightly. "Hotch's plan," he said. "Connected with the unsub, made him believe that was like him; underappreciated employee who sought some form of revenge toward those who made their lives miserable. Hotch's alleged 'surrogate' was me, so he kind of…"

"He beat you?"

Reid shrugged. "Had to sell it. Plus, it provided me an opportunity to reach his gun that was on his ankle. It was a good plan. Painful, but good."

Morgan shook his head, unable to control the grin crossing his face. It disappeared at the implication behind Reid's words, confirming Hotch's earlier statement. "So… you shot Dowd."

They reached hospital's exit. Red lights bathed the darkened asphalt and the people rushing around near the ambulances. Reid nodded, and Morgan noted the lighthearted air surrounding them dissipated a bit.

"I shot Dowd," Reid affirmed, his neck stiff and his eyes blank of all previous mirth.

Morgan bit his lip, and allowed Reid to step away to get himself check out by the EMTs. He stood there for a moment, dropping his gaze to the ground and curling his fingers through his belt loops. He sagged in his relief that everything went well for them today; there were no new victims in the ER, and Hotch and Reid were safe and alive. Morgan wasn't sure if he liked Hotch's plan—actually, he knew he didn't. But the end result was the same: they were alive.

Even with this soothing reminder, Morgan frowned to himself; he felt the back of his neck bristling with the gradual awareness that someone was watching him. And watching him closely. Slowly, he raised his head and casually glanced around his surroundings. He immediately met eyes with Gideon, who, upon noticing Morgan caught him, made no move to look away. If anything, Gideon straightened his posture and braced his shoulders, strengthening his pointed look.

Morgan set his jaw and walked forward. Gideon knew about him and Reid; that was just stone cold fact. It would be pointless to try to hide it an longer from his former unit chief, especially since the stern stare Gideon was aiming in his direction more than likely indicated his personal feelings toward the younger agents' involvement with one another.

"How is he?" Gideon asked as Morgan approached. Morgan sucked in his cheek between his teeth; it didn't sound like Gideon was trying to be evasive. Probably just beating around the bush. Morgan opted to ensure that Gideon wouldn't drag out whatever he wanted to say.

"He's fine, just a little bruised up," Morgan said lowly. "You got a problem with me?"

Gideon shrugged. "Should I have a problem with you?"

"I know that you know about me and Reid," Morgan said, deepening his brows at the indifferent demeanor of the other man. "So spit it out."

"It's exactly what I said before, Morgan," Gideon answered, his dark eyes piercing into Morgan's own, entrapping him in his place. "When it comes to Reid and yourself… _Should_ I have a problem with you?"

That was all Gideon said before he turned and walked away, leaving behind a heavily perplexed Morgan, who threw his arms out in exasperation at his superior's blunt vagueness and cryptic attitude. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and turned back to where Reid was. The younger man was conversing with Hotch, and as Morgan began his slow trek over to him, he watched as Reid pulled out the alleged gun used to kill Dowd from his pocket and handed it over to Hotch, and then as Hotch shook his head in declination, patting Reid twice on the shoulder before walking away.

Morgan reached Reid as the young doctor pushed away from the ambulance, replacing the gun in his pocket.

"Reid, you alright?" Morgan asked, unable to help himself from reassuring himself that Reid was okay.

Reid didn't verbally respond, but he dug his gun-free hand from his pocket, and a flicker of silver shined in the evening as Morgan caught the whistle with startled hands. Amusingly affronted, Morgan looked up just in time to catch Reid's miniature wink in his direction before he too walked away. Watching him, Morgan clutched the whistle in his hand, a slow, appreciative smile forming on his face.

"Touché, kid."

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"How're you doing?"

Reid jumped at the sudden question, whipping his head up to look at Gideon. The older man stared back down at him gently, scanning over the injuries splotched over Reid's face. Ignoring the discomfort from his mentor scrutinizing his face so closely, regardless of it being in concern, Reid swallowed and nodded.

"You were right. You _don't_ need a gun to kill somebody."

Gideon was still for a moment before he ducked his head in a single nod, slowly coming around the table between the two seats to sit down in front of his protégé. Gideon heaved out a long sigh, staring at the tabletop.

"No, you don't," he murmured.

"But it helps," Reid continued, smirking without humor. The weight of Hotch's – his? – gun was heavy in his pocket, pressing against the tender flesh of Reid's bruised thigh where Hotch had sent a wayward kick. He didn't know if he liked that weight, that knowledge that had yet to fully sink in that hours before, he had pressed his finger on the trigger and fired a bullet into Dowd's head. A bullet was gone from the gun, but it didn't feel any lighter.

"Yes," Gideon assents. "It does."

Reid shifts, leaning forward slightly, repeatedly opening his mouth in his turmoil to speak the thoughts plaguing his mind. "I—I know I should feel bad about… what happened. I mean… I killed a man. Y'know, I—I should… _feel_ something. But I don't."

Gideon frowned, the flesh between his brows and around the edges of his eyes crinkling as he shook his head. "Not knowing what you're feeling… that's not the same as not feeling anything."

Reid blinked, comprehension settling in his mind and offering him a bit of comfort.

"This is going to hit you," Gideon said, and Reid wasn't sure if it was the sudden continuation that startled him or the words that did. "And when it does, there's only three facts you need to know."

Reid leaned forward even further, resting his elbows on the tabletop.

"You did what you had to do," Gideon said, "and a lot of good people are alive because of what you did."

Reid's heart dropped and leapt simultaneously at the unspoken praise from his mentor. He swallowed, then frowned. "What's the third?"

"I'm proud of you."

Maybe it was because it was Gideon saying it, or maybe it was Reid needed to hear that statement following the harrowing events of the day, or maybe it was because Gideon said it with such a matter-of-fact tone, as if there should be no reason _not_ to be proud of Reid… But in the end, the result was Reid fiercely fighting back the stinging behind his eyes, and a soft smile pulling across his face.

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Morgan shoved his key into the lock of his home, smirking as he heard Clooney shuffling before his booming bark resonated from behind the door.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Morgan muttered, unlocking the door and twisted the knob.

Quickly, he stepped into his house just as Clooney's head popped into his line of vision, the German Shepard's tongue lolling from his mouth as Morgan entered. A shrill yip erupted from Clooney, and the large dog pushed himself up onto his hind legs, using this stance to paw at Morgan's abdomen. Morgan laughed, readjusting his bag and raking his fingers through the fur of Clooney's neck.

"Alright, down boy," he said, carefully shoving the dog back on all fours. The German Shepard only barked again, his mouth dropped open as he panted. "Yeah, I get it. You're hungry. Get your bowl."

At the command, Clooney suddenly turned and made a dash for the kitchen. Morgan shook his head, dropping his go-bag by the wall and kicking off his shoes. The pitter-patter of Clooney's paws approaching him and the dog's echoed pants around the silver bowl in his mouth sounded behind Morgan, and he turned toward the kitchen, the dog following behind him.

After feeding Clooney and letting him outside for his nightly roam around the backyard, Morgan trudged back into the kitchen, though this time for the alcove underneath the wall cabinets. He pulled out a bottle of bourbon and grabbed a glass from the dish rack next to the sink. Opening the bottle, he poured the amber liquid until the short glass was half-filled, the light of the kitchen surrounding the drink with a golden hue.

He leaned back against the counter, raising the glass to take a sip. The bourbon slid down his throat easily enough, the light burn of the alcohol bringing forth no reaction besides the small groaned hiss of appreciation. Morgan took another sip. Then another. And another. And soon he poured himself another glass.

Morgan wasn't drunk. He'd argue to say he wasn't even tipsy. He was well aware what was happening around him. There was just a small buzz as the heat of the bourbon settled deep in his stomach, and the warm haze that dulled his senses ever so slightly. But he knew everything that was going on around him. He remembered to bring Clooney back inside and take him to his bed in the laundry room. He remembered to set his alarm for six o'clock the next morning. He made a list of the shopping needed to be done later tomorrow after work. He reveled in his relaxed state, sinking further into the couch cushions, the comfort staving off the hard knots in his back.

The doorbell rang.

Morgan knitted his brows together, opening an eye to check his watch.

 _10:17 PM_

Whoever was behind the door rang the doorbell once more, followed almost immediately by a series of frantic knocking. Clooney was barking again, muffled behind the laundry door. Morgan quickly stood up, the wave of dizziness hitting him a combination of the bourbon and the sudden position of being upright. He shook it off and walked toward the front door. The newcomer still hadn't eased up on their knocking; if anything, the rapping of knuckles on wood became harder, more persistent.

Morgan eyed his gun belt, with the weapon still holstered, resting on the table in the entrance hall. He could always grab it just in case.

Backup plan in mind, Morgan reached for the doorknob, and cautiously opened it. As it opened completely, and the unknown visitor stopped knocking, Morgan's eyes widened.

"Reid."

Now that Morgan had opened the door, Reid had withdrawn a little bit; he had skittishly backed away from the door once Morgan revealed himself, and his fingers were twitching nervously. Morgan noticed quickly that Reid was visibly trembling, though not from cold, as the man was dressed relatively well for the chilly November evening. Reid's eyes were wide, and there was a pink tint surround his hazel orbs, and the pupils that were progressively dilating.

Morgan stepped forward, hand reached out toward his friend, mouth open to ask what was wrong—

And then Reid surged forward, freezing hands cupping Morgan's face as he pressed their lips together in a hard kiss.

In retrospect, Morgan knew it probably was a bad idea to have allowed it to continue. Despite the lightness of their earlier conversation, him and Reid weren't on the best of speaking terms, and they still had to work out the issues between them from the mess Morgan inadvertently started, and for all intents and purposes Reid was drunk if the aftertaste of wine was any indication—

But at that moment, Morgan only closed his eyes and moaned, his outstretched arm wrapping around Reid's shoulders as the other one snaked around Reid's waist, moving his mouth insistently against Reid's. This probably wasn't a good idea, but Reid _needed_ this, and there was no denying that Morgan needed this, too.

Reid responded with equal fervor, slipping his tongue, coated with the tart taste of red wine, into Morgan's mouth with a soft, desperate whine. Morgan exhaled deeply through his nostrils, pulling Reid closer and backing into his house, shutting the door behind them. As soon as the door met the frame, Morgan shoved Reid against the wooden surface, earning a grunt for his efforts. Reid removed his hands from Morgan's face and placed one cupped around Morgan's neck, the other lowering to begin the struggle with Morgan's belt buckle.

Morgan had to literally peel his lips away from Reid, leaning his head back as Reid whimpered in protest and attempted to follow his mouth. Panting slightly, Morgan shook his head, dropping his head to rest against Reid's forehead. "Kid…"

"I don't want to talk right now," Reid breathed, the hand around Morgan's neck sliding over to cup his jaw. Reid leaned in, but didn't fully kiss Morgan; their lips grazed against each other, the sensation of anticipation driving Morgan wild. "Not about that, not about earlier. Not right now. I ju—I just don't want to talk right now… I just need you. I _need_ you, and I don't want to talk about that right now."

Morgan's brows furrowed in worry and he pressed his lips to Reid's in a chaste kiss, allowing Reid to deepen it for a moment before pulling away, keeping their close proximity. He moved his head away from Reid's, though, far enough to look into his eyes. Reid stared back at him, chest heaving and lightly touching upon Morgan's with every breath, with eyes that became brighter, redder, a tinge of fear in the hazel pools.

That was enough to make Morgan dip back into Reid's personal space, kissing him with a terrifying intensity, immediately opening his mouth for Reid's wandering tongue. A shuddering moan vibrated against Morgan's lips, and Reid resumed his task of taking off Morgan's pants.

For a few moments following that, it was a lust-filled frenzy as Reid succeeded in unbuckling the belt and lowering Morgan's pants so that the older man could kick them off, and Morgan paying Reid the same courtesy, relieving Reid from his corduroy pants, and Morgan scooping Reid up into his arms, Reid's legs braced around Morgan's waist, their lips fused together in a hungry kiss while Morgan blindly made his way to his bedroom.

Then they were falling onto Morgan's mattress, Morgan landing on top of Reid as the two bounced slightly on impact, their lips parting as a result. Quickly, Morgan lurched up to reconnect their mouths, shifting Reid so that the younger man could move further up the bed. As they became situated, Reid gave a start and gasped out a loud moan as Morgan's clothed erection brushed against his own. Morgan shivered, synapses of pleasure striking every nerve in his body from both the sensation of Reid against him and the lustful sounds coming from Reid's throat.

Once again, he pulled away from Reid's mouth, reattaching himself on the flesh at the crook of Reid's neck, sucking and languidly licking as Reid hissed above him. The strain in Morgan's black boxer briefs was becoming too much, his hard on pushing against Reid's inner thigh, Reid's own rubbing suggestively on the area below his navel.

"Off," Reid gasped, fingers hooking into the elastic waistband of Morgan's underwear. "Need this—Need this _off_."

Morgan willingly gave in to Reid's demands, lifting his hips higher so that the younger man could shove the offending article down Morgan's legs. Morgan moved himself off of Reid so that he may remove them completely, and wordlessly gestured toward Reid. Reid got the hint and raised his hips, allowing Morgan to rip the white boxers down porcelain thighs. Once their lower extremities were naked and bare to one another, Morgan lowered himself to rest between Reid's parted legs. The two men sighed in unison at the contact between their midsections, Reid slowly digging his head further back into the pillow he was resting on. Morgan followed him, kissing him with more tenderness in contrast to their formerly heated kiss. Reid groaned lowly, curling his fingers around the base of Morgan's skull, slotting their mouths together more comfortably as Morgan slid his hand down the length of Reid's clothed abdomen to wrap around his leaking dick and began to stroke him at a slow pace.

The buck of Reid's hips and the protesting keen told Morgan that the younger man wanted him to go faster, but Morgan did nothing to appease him, prolonging the pleasure simply by decreasing his movement and breaking the kiss, coaxing out a loud whimper from Reid. Morgan would have laughed, had he not been taken slightly aback by how affected he was by Reid's flushed cheeks, his blown pupils, the thin blanket of sweat coating his forehead and neck, illuminating his alabaster skin in the dark room—

"Jesus, _fuck_ ," he breathed, leaning down to trail kisses down Reid's jaw.

"Morgaaan," Reid moaned, bunching Morgan's shirt at the shoulder, tugging the older man closer. " _Ngh_ , I need… Morgan, I need more, _c'mon_."

Morgan finally accelerated his hand, pumping Reid at a quicker pace, but frowned when Reid shook his head frantically.

"No," Reid panted, uneven huffs of air warming Morgan's ear. " _More_."

Morgan understood when Reid's splayed hand ran down his back to his ass, cupping one of Morgan's cheeks and firmly yanking the man up while at the same time jerking his own hips up. Comprehensive of what Reid desired now, Morgan let go out the rock-hard, weeping organ, effectively cutting off Reid's mourning groan as he ground his erection onto Reid's. The short yelped that escaped the other man actually did make Morgan laugh this time, the quiet whisper of a chuckle breathing past his lips as he rocked down against Reid.

"Oh, _shit_ ," Morgan groaned loudly, astounding at the _delicious_ friction that rubbing their mutually hard cocks provided, and he bit his lip and grunted, increasing the strength and frequency of his thrusts.

"Ohhhh!" Reid's eyes were shut tight, head thrown even further back into the pillow as he arched his back.

Morgan, breathing heavily with lust and exhilaration, took a free hand and tangled his fingers into the damp roots of Reid's dirty blonde hair, tugging him forward. Reid obediently complied, and Morgan kissed him, sloppy and wet and filthy and _God_ _so good_. Hands wandered over Morgan's back, slipping underneath his shirt and roaming around the expanse of Morgan's torso, the pads of Reid's fingers lightly digging into the bronze skin as he went. Morgan panted into Reid's mouth and began grinding down harder, rutting as close and as harsh as he could against Reid as he chased the mind-blowing pleasure.

"No," Reid murmured against his lips, around Morgan's slick tongue inside his mouth. "Need more."

Morgan broke the kiss then, heart and lungs throbbing, staring down at the young man while maintaining the erratic movements of his hips. "What—what do you mean?"

"Kiss me," Reid whispered.

Morgan's brows twitched as he moved to abide, but Reid removed his hands from his back and placed them on either side of Morgan's jaw. Morgan was a little unnerved at the expectant look on Reid's face, and just how deeply Reid's eyes were gazing into his own.

"Kiss me… like you want me," Reid muttered, leaning up slightly and resuming their position from earlier: lips brushing slightly, a hint of something more complex hidden in the touch and in the glow of hazel staring up at him. Their moist, choppy breathing was making the air between them muggy and dampening the skin around their mouths; it was intoxicating. "I need _more_."

Morgan paused for a moment, his thrusts slowly down drastically as he did so, and moved that last millimeter down, connecting their lips together. He deepened it immediately, coiling his tongue around Reid's and drawing out a low moan from the man beneath him. He rocked into Reid, the damp heat between them exciting and adding fuel to the fire. Reid curled his ankle to rest against the back of Morgan's thigh, pushing against it and pulling him and edging them both even closer together. Their kiss was deep, slower than the first few, almost gentle…

But Reid pulled back minutely, still practically glued to Morgan at the mouth, and whimpered, " _More_."

So Morgan tried, opening his mouth all the wider until his jaw muscles ached, sliding his tongue all the more into the wet cavern of Reid's mouth, running it over the roof, the sides of Reid's teeth, mapping out every crevice and curve and edge. His hips were grinding down ferociously on Reid's, their dicks, wet with precome and sweat, slick and sliding and impossibly hard against the other. Morgan groaned, pushing their lips together harshly.

But, unbeknownst to Morgan initially, he became aware of an air of desperation that had nothing to do with their current situation surrounding Reid. The young doctor was overwrought with inconsolable whimpers and restless whines and keens, and his hands were pawing at Morgan's back, stroking and rubbing and clutching, and his leg tightened around Morgan, jerking their bodies even closer. And then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone, disappeared as Reid's whimpers became rather resigned, his wandering hands slowing down, his kiss growing cold with defeat.

And Morgan found himself bewildered as he realized his own distraught, not knowing what it was that Reid was looking for, what it was he couldn't find. But then he slid his cock against Reid's one final time, and he broke the kiss as he groaned out his release, feeling the burn pool between their heaving bodies as his hips came to a stuttering halt, the force of his orgasm wiping his mind clean, and he forgot all about it.

With a vocal, drawn out mewl, Reid came shortly after, the white semen streaming from his dick and intermingling with Morgan's between their now softening cocks. Morgan slumped as far as he could without leaning his weight against Reid, his arm muscles quivering as he propped himself up onto his elbows. He pushed up and away, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

For a moment, all that was heard was the echo of them trying to catch their breath filling the air, uneven and erratic gasps and sighs joining the gust of wind blowing outside Morgan's window. His heart rate pulsed rhythmically against his rib cage, and Morgan took in a deep breath, dropping his arm from his eyes and turning to face Reid.

He froze, and his steadying heartbeat jumped in horror as he came face to face with the injuries that were still adorned on Reid's face, angry red blotches of bruised and cut skin practically glaring at him in stark contrast to the paleness of Reid's flesh.

"Oh, shit. _Shit_ , _fuck_ , man," Morgan hissed, rolling onto his side as Reid snapped his head to face him, eyes gleaming in confusion. "Kid, you're bleeding!"

And Reid was. Reid's split lip had reopened in the midst of their passionate romp, blood slowly beading near the surface of the cut, and Morgan's eyes widened as he remembered suddenly that Reid was more than likely still suffering the wounds inflicted on him. And he also noted that aside from the wine, he had tasted a bitter, metallic taste as he pressed kiss after kiss to Reid's lips.

Reid unconsciously wiped his lip, smearing the blood slightly, and he frowned as he stared at the back of his hand. "Huh. I forgot about that."

"You were hurt. You're hurt, and I could have made it worse."

"Morgan," Reid muttered, propping himself up as well. " _Morgan_."

Reid took Morgan's jaw in one hand, wrenching Morgan's gaze away from Reid's lip to look him straight in the eyes. Reid smiled in what he hoped was a soothing manner, his confidence in that hope wavering as he grimaced at the stretch of the open cut.

"I'm okay," he assured, stroking Morgan's cheekbone with his thumb, watching Morgan sigh and close his eyes. He felt Morgan's jaw twitch in his grip. "Seriously. I'm okay. It's not that bad."

As he spoke, Reid crowded Morgan's space, daintily pressing kisses to Morgan's chin and jawline, his hand sliding to cup the back of Morgan's neck. Reid shifted and maneuvered and soon rolled Morgan onto his back, laying on top of him as he tracked kisses closer to Morgan's lips. Morgan exhaled deeply, his hands sliding over Reid's back, rubbing at the younger man's lower torso as fingers curled around the hem of Reid's dress shirt.

"Okay? C'mon, _more_."

And Morgan nodded absentmindedly, returned the lazy kiss pressed to his mouth, and complied.

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Wow. Jeez. I actually didn't plan on making this chapter as long as it is.

Whoa.

Well. The first sex scene in this story has been completed! And while it wasn't penetration (like I believe most of you were expecting), the sexual act of "frotting" is actually quite popular in homosexual relationships. At least, according to the miniscule amount of research I did. I was blushing the entire time I was writing it!

I hope you guys enjoyed this _incredibly_ lengthy chapter! And I hope it makes up for my absence lately. I will be writing chapter seven soon, probably going to start over the weekend, so that'll be up in the near future. But nonetheless, I hope you guys are enjoying this story so far! Please leave me feedback about ideas, your reactions, constructive criticism, I would highly appreciate it!

Also, let me know if you'd like me to pursue the trailer/video idea (mentioned in the above author's note) and drop me a song if you think it's suitable for the video! Love you all, and happy reading!I hp


	7. Aftermath - Making Up

A/N: I apologize heavily for the late update, but hopefully you guys get the hectic demands of the holidays and nursing school! I'm back at it now, and will try to update as frequently as I can. I'm really glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter! I spent so much time going through it and editing it and incorporating scenes, and overall I'm pretty happy with your response to this story! You guys are amazing, and this is only the beginning!

As far as the trailer idea I presented last time goes, I am going to get started on that as soon as possible. I'm still looking for appropriate songs to add in it, so that may take a while. I was thinking of using the song "Honeythief" by Halou, but it's not set in stone. Like I said last chapter, should any of you have any song ideas, feel free to suggest them! I'm open to all your ideas!

Without further ado, here is the seventh chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the plot (script) of Criminal Minds, nor do I owe unintentional references to other TV shows.

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The piercing shriek of his phone alarm jerked Morgan out of his slumber, the man grunting through the pounding heart that jumped to his throat from the shock. He slapped a hand out and, after a moment of fumbling his grip around the cell, turned the alarm off. _Ahhh, sweet silence_.

Morgan huffed out a breath, rubbing his sleep-marred face. Slowly, he shifted onto his back, stretching out his arm to the space beside him. He frowned and peeled his eyes open when he discovered the empty, cold spot on his bed, sheets wrinkled and tossed back, where Reid had resided the previous night. The young doctor was long gone.

Morgan closed his eyes, smacking his lips. It was common for either of them to slip away in the early hours of the morning after one of their nights together, but usually Reid ensured that Morgan knew he was leaving. He tried not to think too much on it as he forced himself to sit up, sighing at the ache and exhaustion of his lower extremities.

Reid had been particularly, and curiously, insatiable last night.

He shivered at his room's biting, cold atmosphere on his naked body, grabbing his shirt from where Reid had dropped it over the side of the bed. He stood up from the worn mattress, eyes crinkling at the now-dried mess of semen on his abdomen and partly on his chest from where they failed to clean it the previous night. The blankets had to be a mess too. Biting his lip, he went into his closet for a towel to wrap around his waist and returned to his bedside. He leaned over and ripped the soiled sheets from the mattress, intent on starting a new load of laundry before work.

After he quickly let Clooney out and placed the dirty sheets and shirt (and, once he retrieved them from off the entrance floor, his pants) in the washer, he headed into his room and pulled out clean attire for work before heading into the shower.

Moments later, Morgan sighed out his satisfaction and contentment as the hot cascade of water beat down on his sore muscles, raining down with a reverence and relaxing his shoulders, his back. He grabbed the loofah from the shelf and started scrubbing his midsection, ridding himself of the crusty reminder of his and Reid's night together.

He had mixed feelings about last night. When Reid showed up on his doorstep, Morgan felt a surplus of emotions: surprise and shock being the most prominent; worry and fear because Reid looked a downright mess of terror and determination and sorrow; anger because Reid wasn't dressed for the October evening chill; and knee-buckling happiness and a vague sense of hope that Reid came to him and maybe he wasn't so mad anymore, that he was willing to talk.

But then Morgan tasted the wine on Reid's tongue and the latter appeared to be less and less viable. It wasn't as though he had taken the true time to mourn that, however, having sunk into Reid just as heavily as Reid sunk into him.

Morgan didn't know where they stood though. He wasn't sure if Reid had forgiven him, or he hadn't and last night was just something he needed following the events of Dowd's case. He'd so like to believe the former, but his heart and brain knew that more than likely, it was not so.

And Morgan jolted as he suddenly remembered one particular detail from last night. He chalked up Reid's overall behavior to be the result of his drinking; normally, if not always, Reid was never one to be as bold as he had been, as take-charge as he portrayed. He hardly ever demanded anything, instead opting to follow Morgan's lead and was still tentative in his approach, regardless of the fact that they had been doing this for the better part of a year. Last night was certainly different, but Morgan also knew that Reid tended to be a bit more impulsive when he's had a drink in him, so everything _could_ be explained from the wine.

But wine or not, Dowd or not, something else was off about Reid last night. Disregarding his drinking and killing Dowd, Reid had been considerably distressed. His persistent begging, his desire for _more_ … Morgan initially thought that Reid meant more comfort, more stimulation, more sex, but that hadn't been it. And Morgan failed to deliver, and Reid grew more and more distressed, begging for more and more and _more_.

Morgan scrubbed harder, his thoughts darkening with turmoil.

Just what was it?

What the hell was he supposed to give?

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It was only after he had made his hasty retreat from Morgan's home around five that morning, after retrieving his stained shirt and wayward pants and underwear from where they were strewn about Morgan's house, after he had hitched a cab ride back to his apartment, shivering violently and reprimanding himself for not bringing a jacket with him last night, after he stepped into his decently warm entrance hall, locking the door behind him, that he allowed for everything to process and hit him all at once.

He had slapped a hand over his mouth as an obscene whimper erupted past his lips, heart pulsing and sending hot streams of shame running throughout his body. He shook, he quaked, he trembled.

Oh God, he wanted to throw up.

His minor hangover had nothing on the internal agony he was feeling.

What had he done?

That phrase ran through his mind in a repetitive mantra, cutting through his throbbing mind with a fierce vengeance until every thought, every sense, every synapse in his body was screaming it at him.

What had he _done?_

His breaths shook from him, leaving his lungs with soft gasps. His body was shuddering fiercely from something deeper than the cold. Tiny, betraying keens and tearless sobs vibrated past his quivering lips. But his eyes remained stubbornly dry, unable or unwilling to produce the tears needed, and leaving him a mess of heaving breaths and a bleeding heart as he sunk to the ground, back resting against his front door.

He didn't know how long he remained there, delving deeper into his self-loathing thoughts. It had to have been a long time, probably days. Did he even care at that moment? He stared without seeing, lost in his mind, and he missed the dawn of the day streaming through the windows in his kitchen and living area, filling the room with new light.

Reid only knew how much time had passed when he flinched out of his daze at long last and rapidly glanced at his watch, discovering with a shock that if he didn't start getting ready _now_ , he'd definitely be late for work, and that was excluding the time needed to get the coffee ready.

He cringed, shakily standing up. Walking toward his room, he cringed again as he thought about going into work, where he'd be less able to avoid Morgan and his questions and his presence and the _ache_ of being around him—

Reid slammed his hand on the wall adjacent to the bathroom, the harsh thud penetrating the stiff environment and sending sparks of fire shooting through his brain, causing him to temporarily stumble and moan. He intently focused on the new pain, welcoming it if only to serve as a distraction. Inhaling deeply to work through the pulse in his temples, Reid walked into his room, grabbed his prepared clothes from his closet, and quickly stepped into the bathroom, thoroughly unprepared to face this day.

Little more than an hour later, Reid was at his desk at the bureau, nursing a headache that was a mixture of caffeine withdrawal and a miniature hangover. Blearily, he leaned into the index finger and thumb rubbing at his eyes' inner corners, struggling to maintain conscious composure. He shifted his bag closer to his desk on the floor and stood up, nearly trudging toward the break room. He needed strong coffee, and he needed it _now_.

Reid sighed blissfully when he discovered the break room empty of agents, relishing in the solitude as he headed for the coffee pot. Pouring the steaming, bitter liquid into his signature black mug, he pulled out the canister of sugar. He paused after placing the pot back into the machine, closing his eyes as a particularly nasty stab flashed throughout his brain. He opened his eyes, and had to blink multiple times as black dotted across his vision. Shaking his head, he quickly poured his sugar into his coffee and stirred it in, desperate for the rush of caffeine to enter his system.

Once prepared, he took a tentative sip of the scalding drink, sighing deeply through his nostrils at the overly sweet taste, and turned to walk out of the break room and back to his desk.

He inaudibly gasped and stopped short at the sudden appearance of JJ right in front of him, feeling the coffee slosh around slightly within his mug but thankfully didn't spill over the lip.

"Oh!" JJ exclaimed, just as surprised to nearly run into Reid. Her look of shock rapidly sunk into a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Reid."

"I-It's okay," Reid said, a nervous grin tugging at his lips, feeling his jostled heart rate return back to normal rhythm.

For a moment, he had been worried that it had been Morgan who he'd see, coming in for the opportunity to speak to Reid and confront him about last night. To Reid's immense relief, the older man hadn't been the one to walk in; however, the relief was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced with impending worry, for JJ was another person that he was apprehensive of meeting.

JJ's smile thinned and she nodded slowly. She gestured toward the space behind Reid and said, "I just… wanted to get some coffee before—"

"Oh yeah! Of course, go ahead, sorry," Reid said, moving out of the way as JJ stepped around him to get to the cupboard above the coffee machine. Reid pressed his lips together and took a step toward the door, ready to leave behind the tense atmosphere that just being in a room with JJ created…

"Hey, JJ?" he suddenly said, turning back around.

Internally, he balked at his behavior. As soon as the words left his mouth, he twitched with the intention of squeaking out a "never mind" and leaving the room as quickly as his lead-like legs would take him. He fleetingly regarded the unlikely option that JJ hadn't heard him, but it was a wasted thought; JJ turned around, doe eyes meeting Reid's curiously.

"Yeah?"

"You've, uh…" Reid licked his lips, his abrupt surge of courage diminishing. "You've been avoiding me."

JJ froze for a second before returning her gaze back to the cupboard, reaching for the powder cream.

"You've been avoiding me too, Reid," she murmured.

Reid nodded, hardly feeling the sting of pain from hearing her utter his surname rather than _Spence_. The dread and worry he felt slowly fading into guilt at the sight of her apparent sadness. He hadn't meant to make her _sad_ … But how was he supposed to tell her the truth of why he hadn't truly spoken to her since the Redskins game? How was he supposed to tell her anything, without revealing _everything_?

He thought of Morgan and how he hadn't been able to keep their arrangement between himself and Reid, telling Garcia every detail that he had sworn was just between the two men. He reminisced the revelation and the arguments the followed afterward with bitterness tainting the edges of his memory, but at the same time, he felt so _envious_ of Morgan. Garcia was certainly an excellent confidant, comforting and maternal and witty, and even if she didn't have the answers, she'd be the first to tell you so, and you always left her with a lighter heart anyway. She made you feel _better_.

Reid had Gideon in his corner, sure, but he didn't feel right going to Gideon the way Morgan could go to Garcia. Gideon was a mentor, a somewhat father-figure if anything, in Reid's life, and Garcia was like that friend in school you could tell _anything_ to, things you _couldn't_ tell your father.

Lack of friends and lack of a father in Reid's life certainly made it that much more difficult to find someone he trusted enough to talk to.

As he buried himself deep into his thoughts, Reid became aware that JJ had turned back around to look at him over her shoulder, and that her brows were lowered.

"Reid?" JJ asked, placing the powder container onto the counter as she turned to face him. Concern shined through her blue irises. "Are you okay?"

Reid took in her question with a start, and instantly he nodded his head, smiling tightly in a vain attempt to quell her worry.

"Yeah! Yeah, it's just… It's been a rough couple of days, that's all," Reid shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.

The corner of JJ's mouth twitched, but she still looked unconvinced. He could feel the momentary break in the tension slipping away, the awkwardness of their encounter gradually returning. Reid swallowed his sip, clearing his throat with a shaky breath.

"… Look, JJ," Reid started, his voice a tired croak from his usual level of enthusiasm. "I'm not sure what you expected, or what you weren't expecting, at the end of the Redskins game. I feel like you left that night believing that I was of the mind that it was a date between us, or that I wanted something different, and—and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable for any reason or…"

"You didn't."

Reid's smile returned briefly and ducked his head, swirling the coffee around the mug mindlessly. He didn't believe her.

"No, really," JJ interjected, shaking her head. She paused, and then laughed quietly to herself, muttering something that sounded like _assumptions are the mother of all screw-ups_. Reid didn't have the time to frown and ask her what she meant by that before she continued, "I had a role in the way things ended that night… and how things progressed since then. I should be saying that I'm sorry. So… I'm sorry, Spence."

Reid smiled again, this time a little fuller at the return of his nickname. "You didn't really do anything wrong, but apology accepted. And, well… I just wanted to let you know, and hopefully you truly take my word for it, that I really _did_ just want to get to know you better, JJ. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up, as you can imagine… M-Morgan is… He's great and all, and so is Garcia. But I seeing as I work with you too, I just thought—"

"We can be friends."

Reid glanced up again, trying and failing to hide his shock. JJ was facing him completely, posture much more relaxed now than it had been before, and her smile was genuine and soft, reaching her bright eyes easier. Reid's eyes didn't reduce from their sudden widening, his surprise punching through his lungs. Could it really have been _that_ easy?

"Really?" he asked, a small level of uncertainty still fluttering inside his chest.

JJ rolled her eyes good-naturedly, her smile growing until she was beaming, and then she chuckled, "Of course! I'd love to be your friend, Doctor Reid."

Reid huffed out a laugh, hiding how close he was to sagging with the overwhelming, crushing sensation of elation and happiness he felt crashing upon his wounded heart. "Please. Call me Spence."

He smiled even wider at the sound of her twinkling laughter.

.

.

"Hey, Garcia."

" _Oh!_ Dear _Jesus!_ Morgan!"

A large puff of air, and then the room was flooded with light with a small click. Morgan blinked slightly at the sudden brightness, and turned his eyes from the ceiling to the doorway, where Garcia was standing, hand on her chest, firm glare fixated on him. He almost laughed. Almost. But he just turned his eyes back toward the ceiling, sinking deeper into the comfort of the couch with a sigh.

"When did you get in here? _How_ did you get in here?" Garcia questioned, a snarky bite to her words as she stalked to the opposite end of the office with the monitors.

This time Morgan did allow a small chuckle to rumble from his throat. In reply, he held up single key on a small keyring, twirling it around his index finger.

"You are a genius when hiding your tracks online, sweetness," he smirked. "But I can still figure out that you hide your spare key under the pink welcome mat that you, for some reason, have in front of your door."

" _Oooogh_!"

Garcia came over, swiping her key from Morgan's grasp and simultaneously grabbing a fluffy throw pillow from the couch, only to launch it straight at Morgan's face. The man jumped as the pillow made contact with his face, his arms flailing slightly. Morgan cried out in appalled shock, muffled behind the fabric. Scandalized, he wrenched the pillow from his face and mock-glared at the woman returning back to her desk chair.

" _Damn_ , woman!" Morgan exclaimed.

"Sorry, sugar, but no breaking into my humble abode without my prior knowledge goes unpunished," she said frankly, sinking into her chair and grasping onto her coffee thermos with both hands, raising it up to her mouth to take a sip.

"Pshh… Sneaky Morgan, 1. Oracle, zip."

"I'll throw my coffee at you."

"You wouldn't waste your precious supply like that."

"You know you'll always be my only exception."

Morgan snorted, laughing quietly to himself as he returned his stare up to the ceiling, unconsciously hugging the pillow close to his chest.

Garcia had been smiling despite her prior irritation, but the smile was gone from her voice as she said, "But seriously, you broke into my space at an ungodly hour—"

"It's only 9:30."

"—and you're lying on my couch like this is your own personal therapist's office… What happened?"

Morgan's face smoothed back down into a resigned soberness, and he turned his eyes back up toward the ceiling. He still felt the conflict rise within him at the prospect of talking to Garcia about what happened, the feeling swelling up even more now that Reid was aware of Garcia's involvement. But now that he had let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, he found it difficult to keep things away from Garcia.

"I think I made an even bigger mess out of things," Morgan mumbled, running a hand over his face.

"What are you talking about? What makes you say that?" Garcia said, and Morgan could hear the soft rumble of wheels rolling on carpet as Garcia glided over.

Morgan bit his lips, unsure whether he should reveal the next bit of information. "Reid, he… He shot someone last night. Killed someone. First time."

"… Oh."

At Garcia's small reply, Morgan deflated even further, chewing on his bottom lip. "Yeah," he whispered. "And…"

"And what? Morgan?"

"I slept with him," Morgan said simply, finding it pointless to beat around the bush. "Afterwards. He came over, and… I slept with him."

There was a beat of silence.

And then—

"You stupid, _stupid_ , idiotic, moronic-!" Morgan was still reeling from the impossible speed in which Garcia stood up, yanked the pillow from underneath Morgan's arms, and begin smacking him with him. Hard. He yelped, hands raised in defense against the raging scorn of the woman above him.

"Garcia— _ah_! – Hang on, _stop_!"

Garcia sent one last, well-aimed smack to Morgan's face before launching the pillow at his chest, plopping back down on her seat, arms crossed with a harsh sigh. Morgan wrenched the pillow away from his body and tossed it toward his feet, away from Garcia's reach in case of further assault.

" _Talk_ ," Garcia all but growled, and if Morgan at first had no clear indication of just how frightening an angry Penelope Garcia could be, he knew first-hand now. Morgan swallowed roughly, affected by a combination of cowering before the seething woman and the shame that flooded through his veins.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," he mumbled.

Garcia scoffed.

"It _wasn't_ ," Morgan bit out, quickly gaining his defense. "It really wasn't, I went home after we got back, and I had a little to drink. Not too much, but enough. And then… And then Reid just shows up, and he had been drinking too, I guess, and-and I _swear_ , I wasn't _planning_ on it! He shows up and… it just happened."

Morgan was a little surprised that Garcia didn't immediately cut in after he finished speaking; rather, the woman sat still and quiet, absorbing all the new information. Morgan cupped a hand over his eyes, fingers rubbing at brows.

"I know I messed up. I know," Morgan said. "But this is what we've _always_ done. I guess, or maybe I _know_ , he needed it, and I… We've _always_ done it this way! But now everything's all messed up and _different_ and now I just… Well now, I just don't know what's going to happen. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know what to tell you, Morgan," Garcia spoke up at last, her face now creased with sympathetic concern, anger wiped clean from her expression. She nervously nibbled on her pointer finger, lightly staining the knuckle with her bold, red lipstick. "This… I don't know if this is something I can really help you out with."

"I know," Morgan said, nodding his understanding. He closed his eyes, and sighed. "He probably hates me."

Garcia dropped her hand from her mouth. "He doesn't hate—"

"He freaked out the last time something happened between us, Garcia," Morgan reminded her. "And that time, we hardly did much. This time…"

"But there's a difference, isn't there?" Garcia prodded, resting her elbows on her knees. "He initiated it this time. How can he hate you for something he wanted to happen?"

"He didn't know what he wanted, he was _drunk_!" Morgan said, a note of plea slipping into his voice. "His judgment was compromised, _my_ judgement was compromised."

Garcia pressed her lips together, casting her gaze down. "He… He had just killed someone, Morgan. You have to remember what that was like for you, at least. He had to have been in a bad place, and you were the one he sought out. Maybe… Maybe that means something. Right? I don't know. God, you'd think after hanging around profilers for a few years, the ability would just rub off on me. Guess not."

The light shot at humor was not missed on Morgan, but he could only offer a weak chuckle in response, his mouth tightening into a half-hearted smirk.

"It might mean something," he murmured, hands folded over his stomach and staring up at the pale ceiling. "Just haven't figured that bit out yet."

Garcia smiled sympathetically.

His visit to Garcia's office didn't last much longer than that. The woman took a studying glance at her computer monitor and stood up from her seat, towering over Morgan with a decision on her face before uttering a clear, "Out."

At Morgan's baffled look, Garcia's smile thinned down to a line of exasperation.

"Gotta face the music sometime, Derek, 'cause you can't continue to hide in here," Garcia said simply, ushering the man out of the couch and toward the exit. "Don't make me whack you with my pillow again."

Morgan left voluntarily after that (because, _damn_ , Garcia had an _arm_ on her), but not before he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the bullpen security cameras pulled up on Garcia's computer screen right as Garcia shut the door in his face with a urgent gesture. Morgan stood staring at the closed door, not knowing whether to feel appalled at Garcia or thankful or what. He settled for shaking his head, a huff of amused air leaving his lungs before he turned and walked in the direction of the bullpen.

When he arrived, Reid's desk was void of the genius, chair rolled out from the alcove. Morgan's eyes flickered up to the break room just in time to catch Reid's form disappearing behind the door, mug in hand. He hesitated before easing into his own seat, pulling forth the abandoned paperwork from his inbox. It would do no good to try and catch Reid alone; the young man was clearly vulnerable (for what reason, Morgan begged to know) and Morgan cornering him would only serve for Reid to withdraw into himself even more than he already had. So Morgan ducked into his work, slowly sifting through the reports.

He frowned at the case report of one Lionel Gill as a distinct sound reached his ears. A sound of amusement. A chuckle. More specifically, _Reid's_ chuckle. Morgan glanced up and immediately found the source: Reid and JJ were emerging from the break room, a mug of coffee in each of their hands, and both were sporting easy grins as they chattered quietly among themselves, both heading over to JJ's office on the top landing.

A startled smile pulled at Morgan's lips. Relief coursed throughout his chest as he observed the fortunate lack of tension between his colleagues; he was happy that they finally appeared to have worked things out. The rigid stance JJ adopted whenever Reid neared was gone, replaced with the more relaxed waltz Morgan was used to seeing, and Reid, though still endearingly awkward in his movements, released his stiff demeanor and was smiling widely.

Morgan's smile faltered ever so slightly, his jaw wobbling in its effort as he became aware of the sudden, negative shift inside him, and he snapped his gaze back down at his incomplete report. Yes, he was happy for Reid and JJ working things out between them at last, but Morgan knew that Reid's smile wouldn't remain genuine for long, not when Morgan was in his vicinity. The thought of his close friend being less than happy to see him _stung_. And made Morgan that much more determined to find out what was up with him.

Elle collapsed loudly onto her chair with a large, aggravated sigh, her purse thudding heavily where she dropped it on her desk. Morgan glanced up, bemused at her actions. Elle jutted out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout as she twisted her chair around to face him, arms crossed tightly over her arms.

"See, that right there was the equivalent to your behavior these past few days," Elle said in way if explanation, ridding herself of the comical posture with a smirk.

Morgan snorted, the darkening thoughts swirling around his mind evaporating in light of his friend's antics. "Don't you think you overplayed that a bit?"

"Maybe a little bit," Elle replied, white teeth glowing past her plum lips as she widened her smirk.

Derek chuckled, shaking his hand fondly.

"But seriously, Derek, what's been up lately?" Elle said, tilting her head. She raised her hands defensively as he looked up at her. "I'm not trying to pry too deeply. Just want to know what's wrong is all."

Derek hummed without amusement. "Nothing I can't handle," he answered, softening his expression as an indicator of his lack of offense toward her concern. "Really. Thanks."

Seemingly satisfied, Elle nodded. "Okay. Good," she said, and then proceeded to take a third of her files from her inbox and slip it into Reid's pile with casual indifference.

Morgan laughed.

He came to realize that Reid had taken a page out of his book, for he failed to see more than a glimpse of the genius all day. After bathroom and coffee breaks, Morgan would return to the bullpen and notice that Reid's pile would progressively be getting smaller. His suspicions as to where Reid was were solidified as he witnessed Reid's messenger bag disappear around the corner of JJ's office entrance multiple times throughout the day. Again, he quelled down the sting, forcing himself to try and be happy for the younger man for reconciling with JJ, despite the apparent fact that Reid would much rather utilize his time with the woman he had just yesterday been skittish around than with Morgan.

He grit his teeth, stretching a jovial smile across his face as he returned to the bullpen with Elle's demanded coffee later that afternoon.

.

.

Reid reveled in the relaxation of the day, sipping his coffee and thumbing quickly through the last of his reports. He quickly learned something about JJ: you didn't need to fill in the silence with words to be comfortable around her. When the desire arose, either of them would look up and strike a conversation, whether it be about work, what led them to the BAU, books and movies (Reid held back the majority of what he wanted to say so as to now frighten her away for the second time), though they never touched upon their personal lives except for the general topics. Reid was perfectly content with that.

But those conversations didn't need to last for hours or even for long minutes; a companionable silence settled over the two colleagues as they continued their work, each comfortable in their own way.

He had just reached his twentieth file in little over five minutes when he heard an awed, "How do you _do_ that?"

Reid snatched his gaze away from Chelsea Rosen's report to look up at JJ, who was leaning her chin into her palm, elbow propped on her desk as she flicked her eyes in disbelief between Reid and the steadily growing pile of completed folder beside him. Amusement blossomed in the pit of his chest as he grinned, and he opened his mouth to formulate some sort of response when there was a knock on JJ's open door.

"JJ, I was wondering if y—" Garcia said as she strolled in, coming to a screeching halt in both words and movement when she noticed Reid occupying the chair in front of JJ's desk. Reid stiffened as well, eyes caught onto the frozen stature of Penelope Garcia.

JJ, not sensing the sudden tension in the room, removed her chin from her hand and lowered her brows in question. "Yeah, Garcia? What's up?"

"Uhhh." Garcia shook herself out of it, abruptly turning to face JJ, but taking rapid, occasional glances at Reid. "Sorry, um. Sorry! I didn't—I didn't know you had… company. I'll just—"

"Garcia, it's alright!" JJ called as Garcia twisted around to leave.

"No, no, it's fine! It was nothing, uh, okay," Garcia insisted, waving off JJ's confusion as she whirled out of the room, her heels thudding rhythmically on the carpet landing as she stalked away.

Perplexed, JJ looked over at Reid, who quickly schooled his expression to be one of (hopefully) mild confusion. "What do you suppose that was all about?" she asked.

Reid shrugged, shaking his head, though internally he felt himself sinking back into familiar despair.

.

.

It was about an hour before work let out when Reid made a snap decision. JJ had gone out to make an errand inter-building, so he closed the book he was reading in the meantime and laid it on the seat of his chair as he stood, swiftly walking out of the office with a blank mind and determined legs that knew where they were going.

Soon enough, sooner than he'd prefer, Reid was standing in front of the ajar door to Garcia's office, where he had a clear view of the technical analyst typing away at something concerning the monitor in front of her.

Reid nibbled on his bottom lip, hand pulsing to reach up and knock. Garcia's reaction to seeing him earlier that day had hit him hard, harder than he ever thought possible. He sighed quietly to himself, knowing that it was through his own fault that Garcia was borderline terrified to be around him. Chances are Garcia viewed his avoidant behavior to be that of anger toward the woman, and that could not be further from the truth. But Garcia, for all her intelligence, was not a profiler, and likely latched onto the first logical conclusion her mind went to like any normal person not trained to psychoanalyze every tiny detail.

Swallowing past the sick feeling in his gut, he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles gently on the door.

"Afternoon, mortal, how can I be—Reid!"

The cheerful candidness that Garcia usually voiced trailed off into a startled gasp as Garcia spun her chair around to greet the newcomer, only to come to an abrupt halt for the second time that day, bright eyes wide and mouth slack in bafflement. Reid shifted awkwardly in the doorway, the hand used to knock now lowered into his pocket, shoulders hunched inward as he struggled on what to say.

"Um… Hey, Garcia," he started lamely, clearing his throat softly when his voice threatened to crack. "Can I… Can I please come in?"

"Yeah," Garcia replied almost instantly, bolting out of her shock as she shot out of her seat, gesturing frantically toward the other chair. "Sit, sit, come on in!"

Shoving down his discomfort in sight of her fearful display of indulgence, Reid attempted a smile. "Garcia."

The woman ceased in her flailing, watching as Reid slowly walked into the office, sinking into the offered chair.

"Garcia, listen to me," Reid muttered, beckoning the analyst to join him in seated position. The woman snapped to attention, resuming her place in front of her computers, not once taking her eyes away from Reid's face. "I just… I wanted to apologize to you."

Garcia's eyes, if possible, got wider. "What! No, no, honey. If anyone has to apolo—"

"I do have to apologize," Reid cut in gently, feeling the choking sensation of doubt and anxiety slip away as he continued, "I wanted to say that… I don't place any blame on you for anything that's happened the past few weeks. Morgan... You were put into a position that probably caused you to believe that I was angry with you."

Reid took a moment to pause. Garcia recognized the silence for what it was, and responded to Reid's unspoken suggestion with a tentative nod, affirming his suspicions. Reid's smile became warmer.

"I'm not angry with you, Penelope," he said. "I never was. I just avoided you because I wasn't ready for anyone to know about any of this, and I wasn't ready to face you knowing that you found out. That's all it was. I was never mad at you. And—and I'm sorry for making you think I was."

As he spoke, Reid noted with a small pang of horrified fondness that Garcia's eyes were lightly welled up, and her mask of fear finally, finally disappeared as she grinned wobbly at him.

"That's… That's great to hear, Reid," Garcia said, her voice slightly thickened with tears. "Really great."

Reid dipped his head, stretching his smile a little more in spite of the returning awkwardness as Garcia swiped her thumb quickly under her waterline.

"So… are we okay?" Reid asked apprehensively.

Garcia gawked at him.

"Of… Of _course_ we are!" she answered, as if scandalized that Reid would think anything else.

And that alone was enough for heated happiness to swell up in his chest.

Penelope Garcia always did know how to make one feel better.

.

.

Progress, progress! Reid has finally made up with JJ and Garcia! I wanted him to have some happiness after that angst-ridden chapter, because damn it, our Pretty Boy deserves it! I haven't watched the latest episode of season eleven, but Morgan and Reid in the eleventh episode, "Entropy"? Tears and feels, that's all I can say. Mmm _mmm_.

Hopefully the eighth chapter will come a lot sooner than this one did. I began working on it the instant I finished this one, so at least it's coming along. It should come up soon, and thank you guys so much for staying tuned! Please let me know what you think, as well as some possible song ideas for the trailer!


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